A Story For Charlie
by melmelforlife
Summary: A boy. A girl. A budding romance. If only things never got complicated... ***Updated 4-14-2014***
1. A Few Weasleys and an Incident

"Moon! You coming round for dinner tonight?"

She glanced up from the ledger spread open on the counter before her, quill in one hand, ink splattered on her nose. Both of her bosses stood before her, identical quizzical looks on their faces.

She sighed, stretching luxuriously, drawing out the suspense.

"What, are you mad?" She finally tossed her quill on the counter, a grin blooming. "Of course I'm coming! I wouldn't miss your mum's cooking if I were dead."

One couldn't work for Fred and George Weasley for going on four years and not be inducted, however temporary the position, into Molly Weasley's family. And she, Venice Moon, was quite alright with filling said position. Molly's cooking was well worth every minute spent with the crazy, eccentric, bloody _wonderful_ Weasley brood.

Fred leaned closer and rubbed a spot of ink off the end of her nose.

"You're as bad as Ron, Moon. Honestly. I'm not even asking how you managed that one."

She swatted his hand away.

"Fine. From now on YOU can do the ledger every night."

She slammed the book shut, laughing at the murderous look on Fred's face.

"That's what I thought. Now, I'm going home to change. Not that I don't love these pink robes, mind you. I'll meet you there, alright?"

She was halfway out the door when George's voice stopped her.

"I should probably warn you beforehand, Moon—Mum's going to be sickening tonight. Charlie's home."

The looks on the twin's faces were apologetic. She smiled.

"Oh really? Charlie? The only one of your _wonderful_ brothers I've never met?" she asked dryly, shrugging. "I think I can handle your mum."

Laughing, she stepped out the door and disappeared with a _pop_.

An hour later, she was knocking on the Burrow's front door. She could hear voices chattering loudly inside, booming out of the open windows. A moment later the door swung open. Ginny's smiling face appeared, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with laughter.

"Venice! Come on in!"

Ginny grabbed her arm and all but dragged Venice through into the kitchen. The room was a sea of red hair and freckles, and for a moment her vision was completely obscured as Molly pulled her in for a hug.

"Venice, dear, we're so glad you could come! Sit, sit, dinner's almost ready."

With a gentle shove, Molly pushed her into a chair, and she found herself seated between Ron and Bill.

Bill rested his elbow companionably on her shoulder.

"So, Moon, what's new?"

She shrugged.

"Not a whole lot. How's Gringott's treating you?"

Bill smiled.

"Excellent, as always. You know I love my job."

"Always knew you were nuts, Weasley."

Bill let his arm slide off her shoulder.

"I think you spend too much time with my brothers, Moon. They're starting to rub off on you."

Laughing, she turned away, glancing around the table. Arthur caught her eye, smiled a greeting. Beside him, Harry was deep in explanation of how a spark plug worked. Ginny was leaning across the table, talking about goblins with Bill and beside Ginny. . .

Warm brown eyes sparkled at her as a muscular arm slid across the tabletop, offering his hand. She took it, speechless.

"So you're Venice. I've heard quite a lot about you from my brothers. I must say, you're not what I expected."

For a moment she could only stare at him.

"Yes, well," she finally managed, "you shouldn't believe everything you hear from Fred and George. What did they tell you, that I was an ugly old hag with a large wart on the end of her nose?"

Charlie chuckled.

"Yeah, something like that."

He released her hand and sat back in his chair, eyes still on her face. It took all of her willpower not to fidget under his gaze.

Charlie jumped as Ginny slapped his arm a moment later.

"Stop staring, Charlie! The poor girl puts up with Fred and George all day; she doesn't need you driving her crazy on top of it!"

He rubbed the offended spot, throwing his sister a dirty glare.

"Jeez, Ginny—I don't come home for ages and this is the welcome I get?"

Ginny's hand twitched toward the wand she'd stuck in her ponytail.

"Don't make me whip out a bat-bogey hex. Venice is my friend, and I won't let you annoy her."

"Ginny, it's okay, really." Venice interrupted. She smiled at the pair of them. "Honestly—people might think you're brother and sister!"

After one last glare at Charlie, Ginny returned to her conversation. Charlie smiled appreciatively across the table.

"So how many siblings did you grow up with to be that good at diffusing fights?"

He quirked an eyebrow and she smirked.

"None, actually—I'm an only child."

They grinned at each other as Molly started dishing out plates that overflowed with food. As she tucked in, Venice couldn't stop herself from sneaking glances across the table.

She'd certainly heard a lot about Charlie over the years, seen pictures, but nothing had prepared her for the actual person.

Charlie was. . .there was no other word for it. . ._cute_.

Muscular, rugged. . .Venice felt herself blushing for even thinking the words, bending her head over her plate to hide the rush of color in her cheeks.

"Venice?"

Her head came up—everyone at the table was staring at her. Her cheeks flushed even brighter. Fred and George were both grinning mischievously.

"We're going to the orchard to play a quick game of Quidditch. You in?"

Ron's face was hopeful as he spoke, and she nodded almost automatically. Shoveling the last bite of food on her plate into her mouth, she rose and followed the crowd outside. Teams were divided quickly: Ron, Bill, Fred, and Venice against Charlie, Harry, Ginny, and George.

Venice and Ginny, as the only girls, were appointed Keepers. Hovering near the tree that served as her goalpost, Venice couldn't help but shout taunts across the orchard

"Come on now, Harry! Do we need to get you new glasses? That was nowhere near the goal! Oy! George! If I win, will you give me a raise? Hey, Charlie, you should ask Ginny for flying lessons: it looks like you could use them!"

"Venice!" Charlie finally shouted back, irritated. "D'you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Chuckling, only pretending to watch the action at the other end of the orchard, Venice let her mind wander. As competitive as the Weasleys were, it would be a few moments before the Quaffle came back to her end. She drifted closer to the apple tree she was guarding, watching the way the leaves reflected the sunset.

A shout from behind made her whip her head around, just in time to see the Quaffle streaking straight for her. Gasping, knowing instantly there wasn't time to catch it, she twisted, trying to avoid it, and felt a sickening pain bloom at the back of her skull.

Her vision grayed as she grabbed at her head. Forgotten, her broomstick dropped from underneath her, and she fell. . .

Next thing she saw was Molly's face, hovering above her own.

"Venice! You had us worried—how do you feel?"

Wincing, she slowly moved her head back and forth.

"I'm alright, Molly. I've got a bit of a headache though." She pressed a hand to her forehead; her entire head throbbed with every beat of her heart.

Glancing at crowd of faces gathered around the sofa where she lay, she tried valiantly to smile.

"So, who threw that Quaffle?"

Sheepishly, surprisingly, Charlie raised his hand.

"Venice, I'm so sorry!"

"I see how it is. I just met you and you're already trying to kill me. Jeez, Charlie, if you didn't like me you could have just said so."

The room around her let out a sigh of relief, punctuated by several chuckles.

"I'm fine, I promise. You can all stop hovering round my deathbed now."

She pushed herself upright as people filtered, one by one, from the room. Charlie dropped onto the sofa beside her.

"I'm really sorry, honestly—I thought you heard us call your name before I threw it."

His eyes were solemn, concerned. She smiled.

"And it's really okay. I know you didn't mean it. Don't worry about it."

They sat in silence for a moment, watching the game of wizard chess Harry and Ron had started in the corner.

"So what's it like, working for Fred and George? I don't know how you do it; I'd probably kill them both in the first day."

"It's definitely interesting. I love it, though. I love that every day is never the same as the one before. And yeah, sometimes I'd also love to strangle both your brothers, especially when they get the bright idea to test some new product on me and it goes wrong (trust me, it's happened more than once). Even so, it's the best job I could have hoped for."

"You started working for them right after Hogwarts, didn't you?"

She nodded.

"Fresh after graduation, yeah. Never even dreamed of doing anything else. Not after knowing firsthand what Fred and George are capable of when they put their heads together."

"I bet your parents were thrilled with that idea. I remember how upset Mum was when the twins started their joke shop..."

"Yeah, they definitely weren't too pleased at first, but they came around when they saw how much I enjoyed it. They've even been in a few times. My dad loves your brothers. Says they remind him of him when he was that age." She winked at Charlie. "I do my best not to remind him of how long ago that actually was."

"You're terrible, Venice. We like your dad!"

She turned in her seat to glance at George, who was skulking in the doorway, obviously eavesdropping.

"I know you do. That's why I keep the three of you apart as much as I can. The last thing I need is all of you ganging up on me. I can barely survive just you and Fred as it is!"

After sticking his tongue out at her George slunk back into the kitchen. In the corner, Harry and Ron were shouting instructions at their chess pieces, each of them completely absorbed in the game. She watched them for a moment, giggling as Ron started waving his arms about, nearly hitting Harry in the eye in the process.

"It's hard to imagine sometimes that we were in the same year," she said, nodding at Ron after a moment. "It's almost like watching a couple of children when they get going."

"You're joking!"

Charlie's face was incredulous.

"What do you mean?"

"Were you really in the same year as Ron? Blimey...I had myself thinking you were at least as old as the twins."

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, Charlie. I know it's hard being such an old man..."

She giggled again as he clobbered her in the arm with a throw pillow.

She spent the rest of the evening chatting with Charlie, talking about mundane, every-day things. Where she lived, where he lived, their every-day lives. The time flew; she was startled to look up after a bit and find that she, Charlie, and Ginny were the only ones in the room. Ginny was half-asleep in her chair, Arnold the pygmy puff perched happily on her shoulder.

"Oh, Charlie, I'm sorry—it's so much later than I thought. I should go so you guys can get some rest."

"There's no hurry, Venice. Tomorrow is Saturday; everybody's going to have a bit of a lie-in anyway. I don't want you to think I'm going to throw you out or anything."

"Of course not. After your failed attempt to kill me with a Quaffle, throwing me out would be child's play."

She elbowed him jovially as she pushed herself to her feet.

"I really should go. Sleep sounds like an amazing idea right now."

"Alright. You can use the kitchen fireplace to floo home. It's definitely better for your head than Apparating."

"Yes, I've heard spinning around in fireplaces is SO much better for you."

Her cheeks turned a startling shade of red when Charlie paused mid-step to raise an eyebrow at her.

"I'm sorry, it's my mouth. . .things just come out, I have no filter sometimes. I get myself into trouble like you wouldn't believe."

"I'm sure I have an idea." Charlie's voice was so dry she couldn't help but laugh.

She offered her hand when they reached the fireplace, shook his firmly.

"It was really nice to meet you, Charlie. Thanks for the company tonight, and the conversation."

"Same here. And I'm still sorry about your head. I'll have to make it up to you."

He smiled.

"Have a good night, Venice."


	2. A date?

She woke the next morning to Ginny jumping up and down on the foot of her bed.

"God, Weasley, isn't it a little early for that?"

"Venice! You're awake!"

Ginny took one last bounce and landed on her knees beside Venice.

"So. You like Charlie, eh?"

"Bit early to be hitting the Firewhisky, don't you think, Gin?"

Venice rolled over and tried to pull the covers up over her head, but Ginny would have none of it. Yanking the covers clear down to Venice's knees, she continued without missing a beat.

"Oh please. I've never seen Charlie flirt so much in one night in my life."

"_That_ was flirting? Blimey—poor bloke. No wonder he's single."

"You were flirting too."

"I was not. I was making polite conversation with the only brother of yours I'd never met."

"Don't lie to me. I saw you blushing at dinner."

"Gods, Ginny! Leave off, why don't you?"

"I'm telling you, he likes you too!"

"Ginny, he's what, nine, ten, years older than me? I think you've finally gone round the bend."

Flinging the covers off, she marched to the bathroom, where she had to climb in the shower, still wearing her pajamas, to get away from Ginny. Undeterred, Ginny perched on the toilet to wait.

"Venice, I'm not kidding. Age doesn't matter. Charlie likes you. I bet you anything he's going to come over here today and try to take you out for dinner."

Venice stuck her head around the shower curtain to glare at her friend.

"Ginny, why don't you make yourself useful and go make some breakfast? I'd like to shower in peace!"

"Fine, fine. But I'm not giving up! And for the record, he's only **eight** years older than you, not ten."

Venice waited until she heard the door shut behind Ginny to let out a string of curses.

When she finally appeared in the kitchen, wet hair hanging in ringlets, wrapped in her bathrobe, Ginny was sitting at the table drinking a cup of coffee and reading the paper. A plate piled with toast and sausages sat in the middle of the table, steaming enticingly. Venice sat down and helped herself to a sausage.

"Thanks for making breakfast, Ginny."

"You're welcome."

Ginny didn't even look up from her paper. Venice narrowed her eyes. She knew Ginny too well to believe that the redhead was just going to let the whole Charlie-thing go. She munched idly on a piece of toast, waiting for Ginny to pounce.

The kitchen was so quiet she could have heard a pin drop.

Finally Ginny set down the paper, drained the rest of her coffee in one gulp, and fixed Venice with a thoughtful stare. Venice stared right back as she finished her toast, started on another sausage.

"I can see why he likes you."

Venice rolled her eyes.

"Ginny, honestly. Enough already!"

"No, Venice, I'm serious! You're gorgeous, you're smart, you've got a great sense of humor." Looking her friend up and down, she added, "Not to mention you've got _great_ curves."

Venice blushed furiously, pushed herself up out of her chair.

"Okay, Ginny, I think it's time for you to go."

She pulled Ginny from the chair, pushed her across the kitchen to the fireplace, barely pausing to grab a handful of Floo powder before she pushed Ginny into the flames.

A moment later Ginny whirled out of sight, her expression still determined even as she spun around in the fireplace.

Sighing gratefully, Venice flopped into a chair and grabbed for another piece of toast. She flipped open the paper and was halfway through an article when her doorbell rang. Rolling her eyes, she shoved the remaining piece of toast in her mouth and ran to get the door.

"Ginevra Weasley, if you don't leave me alone I'm going to…to..."

She flung the door open as she spoke, the end of her sentence dying in her throat.

It wasn't Ginny standing there in the hallway.

It was Charlie.

For one long, awkward moment she could only stare at him. And then, suddenly conscious that she was wearing nothing more than a short bathrobe, she leapt behind the door, face burning.

"Did I come at a bad time?"

Charlie's voice was muffled slightly by the door but she could still hear him trying to hold back a bout of laughter.

"Hi, Charlie, sorry, um, can you count to ten and then let yourself in?"

"Sure, but why-"

Without waiting, she swung the door shut and ran to her room, throwing on the first decent clothes she laid her hands on.

When she wandered back into the living room a few moments later, clad now in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, Charlie was standing in the middle of the room, looking uncomfortable. He was holding a basket piled with muffins.

"I'm so sorry, Charlie. I didn't mean to be rude."

He turned as she spoke, eyes locking with hers.

"It's fine, really. Unlike the troglodyte I have to claim as a sister, I tried to wait for a more decent hour before I came over. I was going to send an owl first to make sure I wasn't interrupting anything..."

He held out the basket suddenly, grinning.

"Mum sent these over. She said something about you being in the kitchen...I didn't quite catch all of it though."

"Your mum's amazing: she knows I can't cook worth a knut. She constantly sends food over; it's like she's afraid I'm going to starve."

"She did that for me too when I first went to Romania. It took me a while to convince her that I wasn't going to waste away to nothing."

She returned the look when he rolled his eyes at her.

"Did you already eat? Ginny cooked some sausages before she went—you're more than welcome to join me. I might even share my muffins..."

Chuckling, he followed her into the kitchen.

"Coffee mugs are in the cupboard over there," she directed, pointing, "sugar's on the counter in that purple bowl, and if you want milk there's some in the fridge."

She turned to smile at him as he rummaged through her cupboard for a mug.

"I always go by my parent's rule of making yourselves at home. I don't have guests, I have friends. As my friend, you have my full permission to help yourself to anything."

Charlie raised an eyebrow at her as he poured two mugs of coffee.

"We just met last night, I tried to kill you not two hours later, and now we're friends?"

She shrugged, took a sip of the coffee he pushed into her hand.

"I don't hold grudges."

"So I see. That's good, bodes well in my favor."

He snatched up a sausage, watching her carefully. She stared right back as she waited for him to speak.

"Venice, the truth is, I really came over here this morning because...I wanted to ask if you'd go to dinner with me tonight. I still feel awful about last night, and I'd like to make it up to you."

"Charlie, you really don't need to-"

"Venice," he interrupted, "I wouldn't be asking if I didn't want to. Don't say no. If you do, I might just have to keep asking until you agree."

"Now I know where Fred and George get their stubborn streak." She quirked an eyebrow at him. "All right. Yes, Charlie, I'd love to go to dinner with you tonight."

He grinned, pleased with himself.

"Fantastic! I knew you wouldn't be able to say no to the old 'Weasley charm'."

"After working for your brothers for four years, I'm pretty much immune to the 'charm'. I just didn't want to watch you cry when I turned you down."

He grimaced, trying to hold back a laugh.

"Ouch, Venice, that's just harsh. What house were you in, Slytherin?"

She bit into a sausage before she answered.

"You're so wrong, Weasley. I was a Ravenclaw."

"Oooh, a Ravenclaw, eh? Should I bow down to your superior genius now, or later?"

She threw the last bite of her sausage at him; it whizzed harmlessly past his head and bounced off the cupboard behind him.

"Now you're throwing food? I think that's my cue to leave."

He moved across the kitchen, rinsed his mug out in the sink.

"You don't really have to leave."

"I know. I do have a few errands I need to run today anyway so it's okay if you _are _trying to kick me out."

She walked him to the door, their elbows brushing as they moved down the hallway.

He paused halfway out the door.

"Thanks for breakfast, Venice."

"You're welcome, Charlie."

"I'll, uh, I'll pick you up around...seven?"

She giggled.

"Are you asking, or telling?"

"Telling. I'll pick you up at seven. And, um, wear something warm, okay?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Okay."

With one last smile, he was gone, leaving her standing in the open doorway with an empty coffee cup in her hand.

"Venice?"

Her scream echoed around the apartment. She spun around, the coffee cup poised to be thrown.

Ginny was standing behind her, hands on her hips.

"You're certainly jumpy today."

Venice clutched at her chest, trying to slow her suddenly racing heart.

"Ginny, bloody hell!"

Ginny shrugged.

"Sorry. I forgot my wand earlier. So what did Charlie want?"

Venice stalked past the other girl into the kitchen, lips pursed. Ginny would never let it go if she mentioned her dinner date with Charlie, but she knew from experience that with the Weasley clan, nobody had secrets. There were simply too many people.

She sighed.

"Charlie is taking me out to dinner tonight. He said he wanted to apologize for last night's accident."

Ginny threw her arms around Venice, squeezing all the air from her lungs.

"That's amazing! You and my favorite brother! On a date! I _knew_ he'd ask you! I _told_ you he was flirting!"

"Ginny, leave off—it's not a date-date. It's just dinner, between friends. Nothing more."

"What exactly did he say?"

"He didn't give me any details. He just said he'd pick me up at seven and that I should dress warm."

The words were barely out of her mouth when Ginny grabbed her hand and dragged her along the hall to her bedroom.

"Venice, I'm going to help you pick out something to wear." When Venice started to protest Ginny silenced her with a look and continued. "Now, normally I wouldn't care, because Charlie is so easygoing, but Venice! This is your first date! And I know how much you love you love your sweatshirts and pajama pants, but that's just not acceptable."

A few minutes later, as Ginny was digging through her drawers, proclaiming all of her clothing either 'unacceptable' or 'promising', Venice was starting to seriously rethink her friendship with Ginny.


	3. Ice Skates and Conversations

At 6:45, after chasing Ginny from her flat with threats of bodily harm, Venice dropped onto the sofa, trying her best to control her racing heart and shaking hands.

_What are you doing?_

"I have no idea," she whispered, staring at her hands. Ginny had helped her pick out an outfit, had helped her do her hair and her makeup, all the while giving her pointers and hints on how to impress her older brother.

Venice hadn't listened to any of them.

She didn't _want_ to impress Charlie. She didn't want him thinking she'd only said yes to dinner so it would lead to other dates. She'd said yes because she knew he'd wanted her to say yes, because he wanted to apologize, properly.

She scrubbed her palms up and down the legs of her brown corduroys. Ginny had all but forced her into the pants, explaining in great detail the way brown brought out her eyes, even though Venice wasn't listening at all.

She had to admit, the brown pants and the cropped brown jacket did look good together, especially when paired with the deep blue tee that was the exact same shade as her eyes. She just wasn't sure she wanted her eyes to be noticed.

"Charlie _likes_ blue eyes," Ginny's words came floating back, as though the girl were still in the room with her. "He'll die when he sees yours."

"He saw mine last night, Ginny, and he's still alive, so I don't know why you're going on and on about it." Her response hadn't thrilled her friend, who had proceeded to brandish a hairbrush at her in a rather threatening manner. After that, Venice had kept her comments to herself.

She didn't need another lump on her head.

At precisely ten to seven her doorbell rang. She walked on wooden legs to the door, praying her shaking knees wouldn't give away just how nervous she was.

Charlie's smile lit up his eyes when she opened the door. He held out a bouquet of flowers before she could even offer a greeting.

"Before you say anything, I have a confession—I asked Ginny for help picking out the flowers. I didn't want to get something that you hated, or that would make you sneeze."

"They're lovely, Charlie."

The bouquet of lilacs and lilies was gorgeous, the smell nearly intoxicating as it filled her small flat. He followed her into the kitchen, where she set the vase in the middle of the table. She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off before she could utter a single word.

"And don't say I didn't need to get flowers, because I can tell you're just dying to tell me that. I know I didn't need to. I wanted to."

Her cheeks flushed as he stepped back and looked her up and down.

"Now, I hate to say this, but nice as you look, you're going to want a warmer jacket than that."

"Are you going to tell me why, or where we're going, or are you going to kill me with the suspense?"

"Suspense. If I tell you, it'll ruin everything."

He followed her back into the living room, where she snatched a heavy sweater from its hook in the closet.

"Is this going to be warm enough?"

He nodded.

"Absolutely. Let's go."

He offered her his arm as they stepped into the hall; she took it, pausing to cast the usual wards on the door of her flat, and then looked up expectantly.

"So where are we going?"

He laughed aloud, his eyes dancing as he cast her an amused glance.

"I'm not telling. Now close your eyes so I can Apparate us."

Huffing an over-exaggerated sigh, she slid her eyes shut, felt Charlie cover her fingers with his hand. His palm was calloused, yet smooth, as it slid over her skin.

After the always uncomfortable sensation of Apparition had faded, Charlie released her arm.

"You can open your eyes now."

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but when she did her jaw fell open.

"Please, please tell me that look is a good thing."

He'd stepped in front of her, watching her reaction apprehensively. She stared up at him, trying to find her voice, and then...

"What else did Ginny tell you? You got the flowers spot on, and then _this_?"

They were standing in the middle of an ice-skating rink, their breath pluming out before them in clouds. Charlie had already added blades to the bottom of their shoes. She spun effortlessly in a circle.

"What makes you think I talked to Ginny?" Charlie's tone was falsely innocent, and she wasn't fooled for a second.

"Oh please! Ginny is the only person in the wizarding world I've ever told about ice-skating, there's absolutely no way you could have found that out unless she talked to you!"

"Talked to me about what? About your fifteen skating medals? All fifteen of which you won before age eleven, before Hogwarts? About how much you love to skate but never do anymore, because you claim you don't have the time? Nope, I definitely didn't talk to Ginny about that."

He skated smoothly out of reach before she could hit him, his laughter rumbling out of his chest and echoing around the otherwise silent rink. For a few laps she chased him around the ice, trying her hardest to hold in a laugh every time he stumbled. Watching Charlie Weasley on ice skates was a bit like watching Hagrid waltz: hilarious and a bit awkward.

When he finally found his rhythm, they skated in circles for a while. After lapping him for the seventh time she slowed and drifted toward the middle, spinning slowly in a circle. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Charlie hoist himself up onto the low wall, watching her.

She didn't want to think about how much he made her nervous.

Taking a deep breath, she folded her arms in closer, spinning faster. For a moment she let the sensation carry her, and then broke out of the spin. She made a few laps around the rink, gathering speed. When the walls became a blur, speeding past, she closed her eyes and jumped.

For an instant she was weightless, carefree...and then she crashed back onto the ice. Pain rippled through her ankle and she went down. She heard Charlie shout, and the next moment he was bending over her.

"Are you okay? Where are you hurt?"

His voice was anxious, his eyes were wide. A giggle bubbled out of her before she could stop it.

"Gods, I knew I was out of practice, but I didn't think it had been quite _that_ long!"

"Venice?"

"I'm fine, Charlie, honest. That's just what I get for thinking I can do something I haven't done since I was eleven. That was horrible. I'm sort of embarrassed that you saw it."

He helped her sit up, still watching her carefully.

"Are you sure you're okay? I saw you go down and I thought for sure you'd broken something."

She got slowly to her feet, shaking herself out, brushing the ice from her pants.

"Yeah, I'm quite sure. I'm all right Charlie, you can stop hovering now." She giggled again. "Are _you_ going to be all right, Mr. Weasley?"

He smiled sheepishly.

"Be quiet, you. If you were me you'd be worried too after seeing that crash."

"Sure, sure. Should I call for your mum though, just in case you need looking at?"

"Venice!"

He caught her hand as she tried to glide away, pulled her back easily. For a moment their eyes locked. She couldn't breathe. Charlie's eyes were such a lovely, warm shade of brown…

He pulled away, clearing his throat loudly.

"Well. I, erm, I think it's time we ate."

He didn't look up as he waved his wand, Vanishing their skates.

He held out his arm, waiting for her to take it. He met her eyes for a second, just a brief second. There was something lurking there just below the surface that she couldn't quite read.

She took his arm and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the nervous knot in her stomach.

As the sensation of Apparition washed over her, Ginny's words again echoed in her head.

"_Age doesn't matter. Charlie likes you…"_

When she opened her eyes they were standing outside the Leaky Cauldron.

"I know you're probably tired of this place, but Tom makes the best roast beef sandwiches in the world."

He opened the door for her; she paused halfway through.

"I have a confession: I've never actually eaten here."

His face was incredulous.

"You work in Diagon Alley, you live in Diagon Alley, and you've _never_ eaten at the Leaky Cauldron? Oh Venice…how do you get through life?"

She elbowed him as he ushered her into a chair, trying to pretend she didn't notice the cozy table for two he'd picked out in the back corner, near the fireplace. She pulled off her sweater and slung it over the back of her chair; Charlie's eyes drifted to her tee.

"Did you know that's the same color as your eyes? It's such a pretty blue."

She was going to kill Ginny with her bare hands. Gritting her teeth, she nodded

"Your sister helped me pick it out. Apparently, I'm just not capable of dressing myself for a date. I never would have guessed she was hiding such a...a _girly_ side."

She stuck her tongue out at him. Across the table, Charlie laughed a bit uncomfortably.

"Who said it was a date?"

"Oh, please! You said you wanted to take me out to dinner. You never said anything about ice-skating first. An outing such as that, plus dinner, equals a date."

"Really? Well, in that case, I suppose I'm guilty as charged."

He leaned back in his chair, looking rather pleased with himself.

"So what if I said I wouldn't go on a date with you?"

"I'd call you a liar."

"Charlie Weasley, I'm not so sure I like you."

"And I'm sure you do, otherwise you wouldn't be here right now. And of course now you're not going to leave, even if you don't like me, because then I'd be right. And you hate being wrong, don't you? I bet, knowing my sister, that she told you that I liked you. And knowing my sister, she all but smothered you with the information. And part of you agreed to come out with me tonight just so you could prove her wrong. But she's right, you know. I do like you. There's something about you, Venice. I know I just met you last night, but you have no idea how much I've heard about you over the years. When my mother started raving about this girl, Venice Moon, and how wonderful she was, working for Fred and George for so long, and being so damned amazing, I got interested. And then, seeing you last night, it was like everything finally fell into place. I'd never seen your picture, and nobody had ever told me what you looked like, but you were exactly how I imagined you. _Exactly_. And I truly didn't mean to hit you with that Quaffle last night, but once it happened…there's no way I would have passed up the opportunity to take you out, and see for myself if you were as amazing as the rest of my family thinks you are."

She folded her arms about her chest and gazed at him evenly for a moment, trying her hardest not to reveal just how hard her heart was pounding in her chest.

"So what's your verdict? Is your family right, or are they just all out of their minds?"

"My family is definitely out of their minds, but they're absolutely spot-on about you, Venice."

She couldn't pull her eyes away from his. He leaned forward, stretched his arm across the table, and stroked a finger gently down her arm.

"And don't you dare tell me that you're not at least interested. I can see it in your face. Ginny might have dressed you in that outfit, but you didn't change out of it, did you? You know, it's sort of funny: your face turns red when I mention how gorgeous your eyes are, but what you don't realize is how much your blush makes your eyes stand out."

If she hadn't been rooted to her seat, Venice would have been tempted to run. Charlie's eyes stared deep into hers; she got the feeling he was seeing much more than just the color of her eyes.

"Venice?"

"Yes, Charlie?"

"You're still blushing."

Calmly, she raised an eyebrow.

"Weasley, you better hope my wand is not easily accessible at the moment."

Tom the barkeeper turned a curious eye on both of them as Charlie roared with laughter.

"Ah, Bill was so right about you."

She kept her eyebrow up.

"And what did that wonderful brother of yours say about me?"

"He said you'd keep me on my toes."

Her hand twitched toward her wand.

Charlie's eyes caught the movement and he smiled.

"Now, now, no hexing before dinner. I don't relish the thought of eating my sandwich with an overlarge tongue."

She lost a rather valiant fight to keep a straight face. Charlie's eyes sparkled when she finally let out a reluctant giggle.

His eyes were downright attractive when they sparkled like that…

She jumped as Tom appeared at the table, bearing two plates piled with food. He set them down without a word, shuffling away to slide behind the bar once more, casting them an odd look as he picked up a rag and began wiping glasses.

Charlie leaned in across the table.

"I think he's jealous," he whispered conspiratorially, "because I'm here with such a beautiful lady, and he hasn't got one."

She snorted into her mashed potatoes.

They lingered over dinner, and then over scones and coffee. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she didn't want the evening to end.

Charlie was such fun; even the twins hadn't made her laugh this hard, this often.

_It doesn't hurt that he's completely adorable._

When they Apparated back to her flat, Charlie leaned against the doorjamb as she released the wards.

"Would you like to come in?" she finally asked, glancing over to find him watching her face. He shook his head.

"It's late. I should let you get your rest for tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?"

"Sunday dinner with my family. You're coming. As my date."

She leaned against the wall beside him, staring up at him.

"As your date?"

"As my date."

She nodded once.

"Alright. As your date."

He grabbed her hand as she stepped around him, intent on going inside. He met her gaze, smiled into her eyes, and pressed a kiss to her fingers.

"Have a good night, Venice. I'll pick you up tomorrow, around three."

"Thank you for the date, Charlie."

Another kiss on the back of her hand, and he let her go.

She closed the door with a smile on her face.


	4. A First Time for Everything

She dreamed of Charlie that night, playing Quidditch on dragons and ice-dancing on the grass in the middle of a Quidditch pitch.

Her bedroom was filled with light when she finally rolled out of bed the next day. Her digital clock, such a lovely Muggle invention, brightly proclaimed it was after noon.

She lingered in the shower, feeling wonderfully rested, in a cheerier mood than normal. She almost didn't want to place the blame on Charlie, didn't want to jinx the connection they'd developed last night.

She padded into the kitchen, barefoot, dressed in her bathrobe again. Jabbing her wand at the coffeepot, she waited impatiently for it to brew. Her doorbell rang as she poured the first cup a few moments later.

"Venice! Let me in, let me in!"

Ginny's voice was unmistakable. Whispering the spells to release the wards, she heard the door bang open a heartbeat later and then Ginny appeared at her elbow, almost bouncing up and down in her eagerness.

"So what happened last night? Tell me everything!"

Venice cocked an eyebrow, sipped slowly at her coffee.

"You should know, Ginevra. After all, you're the one who told him he should take me ice-skating. Which, if I'm correct, was not mentioned at all when he asked me to dinner. Dinner, Ginny. Not a date. What on earth did you tell him after I left the Burrow?"

Ginny took a deep breath.

"Please, please, please don't be mad. I could tell the two of you had something, I mean, not everyone can sit there and talk to _Charlie_, of all people, for most of four hours without wanting to stick their wand in their eye. I love my brother, but he can be a bit dull. So I gave him a few hints. I know how snooty you are about your flowers, and I knew Charlie would want to bring you some, and I wanted him to make a good impression."

"I'm not snooty, Ginny, just particular. I know what I like."

Ginny rolled her eyes and helped herself to some coffee.

"Exactly. The last thing I needed was for you to say something and hurt his feelings. I know how you are, Venice. We've been friends for too long."

"Alright, fine, but ice-skating? What brought that on? It wasn't supposed to be a date!"

Ginny glared at her for a moment before answering.

"You know as well as I do that you need to get back on the ice more often." She shrugged innocently. "Last night was the perfect excuse."

Venice drained the last of her coffee, holding back the string of curses she felt like spewing.

"I hate you, Ginny."

Ginny patted her on the shoulder.

"I hate you too, Venice. Besides, the way Charlie tells it, you never disagreed with him when he said you were interested in him too."

She felt the heat creeping up her neck into her cheeks.

"What did he do, recite the whole evening to you?"

"Nah, just the important bits. He, uh, also mentioned that you're coming for dinner today..."

She paused, and Venice held her breath, waiting for the rest of it.

"...as his date."

Venice hid her face in her hands.

"Ginny! Gods, alright, yes, I'm coming as his date, but if you make a thing out of this I'm going to curse you bald. And I'm dressing myself tonight, for your information, so don't even ask."

Ginny held her hands up, the picture of innocence.

"I wasn't going to!"

Venice narrowed her eyes.

"Okay, okay, I thought about it..."

Both girls laughed. Ginny impulsively threw her arms around her friend.

"You and Charlie! Venice...thing or not, I'm so excited!"

For a moment they just smiled at each other. Ginny suddenly smacked herself in the forehead.

"Mum sent cookies! Hold on just a minute..."

She darted out of the kitchen. Venice heard the door open and shut, and then Ginny reappeared, holding a plate piled with cookies.

"Double chocolate chip, your favorite."

Venice didn't wait for her finish the sentence. Snatching the plate out of Ginny's hand, she sandwiched two cookies together and took a large bite.

"Mmmm..."

"Should I tell Charlie to bring you cookies instead of flowers next time?" Ginny giggled.

"On'y if they're choc'late," Venice mumbled through a mouthful of cookie.

"I had a feeling you'd say that."

Ginny helped herself to a cookie.

"So what are you wearing tonight?"

She glanced expectantly at Venice, who ignored her and took another humongous bite of cookie.

"C'mon, please tell me!"

"You'll find out when I get there tonight."

"Venice, you're taking all the fun out of my life, I hope you know that."

"I do what I can, Ginny."

"You're cruel."

"Only to you."

"Yeah, yeah."

Ginny finished her cookie and wiped the crumbs from her hands.

"I guess I'll see you tonight then. Mum's roped me into helping with dinner, and I want to spend a little time with Harry before, so..."

Venice grinned at her friend.

"Aww, look at the lovebirds! How cute!"

"Shut it. At least I can _admit_ I have a guy."

Ginny ran from the room as Venice whipped out her wand.

"I'll see you tonight!"

The door clicked shut a moment later. Venice growled under her breath and grabbed another cookie.

At 2:45 she was in the bathroom, burning her finger for the third time on her curling iron. Finally frustrated, she yanked the plug from the wall with a jerk and all but threw it back in the cupboard.

"Blasted, infernal, MUGGLE CONTRAPTION!"

She grimaced at her reflection.

"Why in the world am I getting fancied up anyway? Bloody hell, it's just Charlie. He saw me flat on my ass yesterday, I don't think he's going to care if my hair isn't curled!"

She stalked out of the bathroom, furious with herself for being such a...such a _girl_.

She paused in her bedroom long enough to grab a pair of trainers and her favorite green sweater. She was most decidedly not getting dressed up today. Jeans and a plain black tee were the first clothes she'd pulled from her closet today, so that's what she'd put on.

"Ginny's going to have my head for this later."

She heaved a heavy sigh, glancing down at her sweater.

"Oh well..."

She hopped down the hall, putting her trainers on as she went. She had barely stowed her wand in her back pocket when the doorbell rang.

If there was one good thing about Charlie, it was that he was definitely prompt.

"I'm coming!" she yelled, taking one last deep breath, running a hand over her hair, and trying to calm the sudden fluttering of her stomach as she opened the door.

He was leaning on the doorjamb again, looking the picture of nonchalance. The grin that sprung onto his face when he saw her belied his easy stance.

"Hello, Venice. You look lovely."

"Hey, Charlie. Are you always on time like this?"

He nodded, rocking back on his heels.

"I try to be." A shrug. "I hate being late."

She smiled.

"Me too."

He moved aside as she stepped into the hallway. She felt, more than saw, him look her up and down.

"Do I pass the test?"

His eyes instantly jumped to the wallpaper.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She snorted, waiting for the rest of it.

"Yeah, you pass the first test."

"The first test? I'm almost afraid to ask what the second one is."

His grin turned suddenly devilish. He stepped closer, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Weasley...are you _smelling_ me?"

"It's the second test! Don't sound so offended. I just wanted to see if you smelled as amazing as you did last night. And you do, even more so, if that's possible, so you passed with the highest grade you can think of."

His cheeks had the most amazing dimples when he smiled like that...

Taking his proffered arm, she shook her head slightly.

"You've gone round the twist, Weasley."

He was still laughing as they Apparated.

Her face was thoughtful as they appeared on the Burrow's front lawn.

"Charlie, I have to ask—if I was going to Apparate here anyway, why did you come pick me up?"

He looked at her as if he couldn't believe she didn't already know the answer.

"That's what a man does on a date. He picks the lady up, because she should never have to go anywhere alone. Blimey—you certainly do ask a lot of questions, don't you?"

She shrugged a shoulder innocently.

"Once a Ravenclaw, always a Ravenclaw. We like knowing the answers to everything."

He chuckled as he opened the kitchen door for her, his fingers lingering at her waist as he ushered her inside. It was hard to ignore the goosebumps his touch raised.

The kitchen was empty save for Molly, working at the stove like always, and Fleur, prattling away at the table as she folded napkins. Venice caught Molly's look of exasperation as she turned to smile warmly at Venice.

"Hello, dear. We're glad you could come."

"I wouldn't miss your cooking for the world, Molly. And thank you so much for the cookies Ginny brought over—they made a wonderful breakfast."

"Cookies for breakfast? Taking a leaf from Fred and George's book today, I see."

Venice grinned sheepishly.

"They do rub off on a person after a while."

Laughing, Molly shooed them both from the room.

Charlie twisted his fingers with hers as they moved down the hall.

The living room was crowded, as always, as they stepped inside. Bill and Harry were in the corner, playing Exploding Snap. Ginny was crouched behind her oldest brother, plaiting his long hair into a style Angelina Johnson would be proud of.

Ron was sprawled in the middle of the sofa, half hidden behind the Daily Prophet, reading aloud the Ministry's latest blunderings to anyone that might be listening. Arthur dozed in the armchair next to the window; Fred and George stood on either side of the chair, alternately turning Arthur's hair and eyebrows different colors.

Charlie nudged Ron with his foot.

"Budge up, mate."

Ron's eyes appeared over the top of his paper. His eyebrows went up as he caught sight of their intertwined fingers.

Silently, he scooted over.

Charlie dropped onto the couch, pulling Venice down with him. He grinned at her as he pulled her hand into his lap.

"Percy at the office?" he asked the room at large.

Fred glanced over and nodded.

"When isn't he? He said he might be back in time for dinner, if he got his report finished."

George glanced over and rolled his eyes.

"And handed in, personally, to Kingsley. Git."

"Git," Charlie agreed. He stroked his thumb across the top of Venice's hand. "Ah well. At least there's more food for us, then."

She shivered as his thumb backtracked across her skin. Did he know odd, and wonderful, that felt?

Arthur snorted awake as Bill let out a sudden string of loud curses from the corner. Fred and George instantly pretended to be absorbed in straightening the curtains behind their father's chair.

Venice had to bite her lip to keep from laughing as Arthur repositioned himself in his chair, smiling at her and Charlie. He looked a bit peaky with one green eyebrow and one blue one.

Ron laid the paper aside after a moment, finally realizing that none of his family was listening to him. He leaned across Charlie to catch Venice's eye.

"We're playing quidditch in the orchard after dinner. You in?"

Venice nodded.

"She can't," Charlie interrupted. Venice and Ron both stared at him.

"I can't?"

"You can't." Charlie calmly met her gaze. "We have plans."

She didn't trust the hint of a twinkle she saw in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she said, shooting Charlie a look that would have made a lesser man quail. "Your brother's a bit of a caveman, it seems. He'd rather fling me over his shoulder and drag me places than inform me, like a gentleman, beforehand."

Charlie's eyebrows flicked upward.

"Did you hear that, Ron? I think that was the sound of Venice giving me her permission to fling her over my shoulder."

Before she could even think to disagree, she found herself hanging upside down over Charlie's shoulder, her eyes level with the waistband of his jeans.

"Charlie Weasley! Put me down this instant!"

"Charlie, mate, did we ever mention how dreadfully ticklish our favorite employee conveniently happens to be?"

Fred's voice was the epitome of innocence. A heartbeat later his fingers descended, and she dissolved into helpless giggles.

Tears were streaming from her eyes when Charlie finally set her on her feet. She bent over, breathing deeply. Her stomach ached from laughing and her head swam as her blood returned to its proper places.

"Now, Venice, I feel compelled to remind you that I'm your boss, and as such, deserve to be treated with the proper respect—"

Venice punched Fred in the chest, effectively cutting off his pompous speech.

"Bugger off, Fred." She rounded on Charlie next, who stood picking at his fingernails, obviously unworried. She jabbed her finger at him. "And you! Would you care to live to see your next birthday?"

His eyes widened. She could see the start of a grin lurking round the corners of his mouth.

"Are you threatening me, Venice Moon?"

"You bet your ass."

"You know what happens to people that threaten me?"

She took a step forward, folding her arms across her chest. She wasn't afraid.

"What?"

He stepped closer, closing the scant distance between them. Her heart fluttered in her chest as he raised a hand, cradled her cheek in his fingers.

She knew what he was going to do before his lips lowered, brushed against hers, but she couldn't move, didn't _want_ to move.

His kiss was gentle, sending a shiver all the way down to her toes.

Too soon, he pulled away slightly, ducking his head to catch her eyes.

Without a word she stretched a hand up, slid it behind his neck, pulled his lips down to hers again.

When they finally broke apart her breath was coming in gasps. Charlie's face was tinted with pink, and his eyes were shining in a way she knew hers must mirror. He smiled at her, rubbing his thumb gently along her lower lip before pulling his hand away.

Behind her, Fred and George let out a pair of ear-splitting wolf whistles. Behind Charlie, Molly appeared in the doorway.

"Fred! George! Stop that this instant!" She rubbed her ears, sending her sons a look that only a mother could manage.

"Sorry, Mum. It's really Charlie's fault—if he'd quit snogging his girl in the middle of the room and giving us all a display..."

Venice had never wanted to be invisible so much in her life. She couldn't read the look on Molly's face; Charlie slipped his hand around hers again as he turned to face his mum.

"Charlie! Don't embarrass the poor girl."

Molly stepped forward, smiling warmly. She pulled Venice into a rather awkward hug; Charlie wouldn't let go of her hand. Venice breathed a sigh of relief. She loved Molly like her own mum. If Molly hadn't approved of her going with Charlie...she didn't know what she'd do.

And since when were she and Charlie going together? How had that happened? She glanced up at Charlie. He was already watching her, his expression one of contentment.

For a moment no one spoke, and then Ron interrupted the moment, as always.

"Is dinner ready yet, Mum?"

Molly leaned around Venice to give her youngest son an admonishing look. Mothers really were excellent at saying things without words.

"Yes, it's ready. Let's eat."

She stepped aside so Charlie and Venice could exit first. Venice was certain that Molly would be looking at Arthur now, the kind of look only a husband, and a father, would understand.

Charlie dropped her hand to slip his arm around her waist as they entered the kitchen. He pulled her close for a quick kiss before pulling out a chair at the table for her. She sat down, her head still buzzing with questions.

He must have seen them on her face, for he whispered, "We'll talk later, alright?"

She nodded as the rest of the Weasleys crowded in.

Dinner was noisy, punctuated by laughter from the twins, Harry, and Ron, who were grouped at one end of the table, and snippets of Ministry gossip between Arthur and Bill, and later Percy, who Apparated into the kitchen halfway through the meal.

An hour later, stuffed to the gills, Charlie and Venice begged off third helpings of trifle pudding.

"Sorry, Mum, I'd love to stay here all night and eat, but Venice and I have plans."

He shuffled her out the door; she barely had time to call a few goodbyes over her shoulder.

"What's the rush, Weasley?"

He grinned, tipped her chin up with his thumb.

"You'll see."

She closed her eyes as he snatched her hand up again. She was starting to like the feel of his strong, calloused fingers twined around hers.

They Apparated with a _pop_, and when she opened her eyes they were standing at the front door of her flat.

She opened her mouth to ask what he had in mind, her sentence lost as he suddenly bent and rubbed his lips gently against her own.

"You have such soft lips, Venice," he murmured as he finally pulled away. "And you're so adorable when you blush."

She had to back up, get some breathing room. She pressed her cold fingertips against her cheeks for a quick moment, trying in vain to cool her face down, staring across at Charlie as she released the wards on her door.

"Venice, if I'm rushing you, please tell me. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, it's just...you really do have lovely lips."

She could hear the concern, the sudden unease, in his voice. She smiled gently at him.

"No, not rushing, just...unexpected? It's still a bit weird, considering we just met the other day, but...I feel like I've known you forever, Charlie. That's the weird part. It's not _bad_ weird; please don't take that the wrong way. I like you, I do."

She paused, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she struggled to find the right words.

"I don't even know what I'm trying to say..."

"Then don't say anything."

He took her hand and led her into her flat, closing the door softly behind them. He pulled her against him, wrapped his arms around her, and rested his cheek on her hair.

"I like you, Venice. You know that. I like the idea of _us_, but if that frightens you at all, tell me. You won't hurt my feelings. I don't want to scare you away: I want to get to know you better."

She let her eyes slide shut, let her head rest against his chest for a moment. He was warm, and sturdy, and he smelled...bloody amazing...

She let her arms wind themselves around his waist. He shivered as she sighed into his shirt. It was a few moments before she could talk herself into letting him go.


	5. Good News and Better News

She woke the next morning with a smile on her face, and thoughts of Charlie in her head.

They'd been up half the night, curled together on her couch, talking, just talking, about anything and everything. Middle names, first loves, the most embarrassing moments (so far) of their lives.

It had been so comfortable, so easy. She'd never met someone that made her feel as..._wanted_...as Charlie. No other boy she'd dated, not even her closest friends. It was almost scary, but in a very pleasant, butterflies-in-her-stomach sort of way.

She rolled over, grinning into her pillow, very glad nobody could see the thoughts running through her mind.

She hummed her way through her morning routine, sang louder than ever during her shower. Not even the thought of an entire day spent in the presence of Fred and George could dim her spirits today.

She Apparated to the joke shop later, arriving ten minutes early, as always. She was halfway through the door before she realized that the lights that were normally on by this time were still off, and the shop was oddly quiet.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she instantly grabbed for her wand. She slipped the door silently shut behind her, breathing as quietly as possible as she took a step forward. Her heartbeat thudded loudly in her ears.

She stepped carefully past the displays that crowded the front of the store, past the shelves and racks of candy that littered the center of the shop. She was almost to the front counter when two shapes materialized on either side of her. She jumped, her wand clattering to the ground.

"Honestly, Venice, you'd think we were a pair of burglars, the way you jump."

George's voice sent instant relief rushing through her, replaced almost as quickly by anger.

"George! Gods! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

She bent to pick up her wand as the lights flared to life, revealing the twins lurking near the counter as they stared down at her, their faces wearing looks she didn't understand.

"No. We _are_ going to have ourselves a nice little chat, though."

George tucked her arm in his as she got to her feet, all but dragging her to the office, Fred following close behind.

The twins pushed her into the desk chair, both of them taking seats on the desk in front of her. Their arms were folded over their chests and their faces were suddenly deadly serious.

"So. Venice. What do you have in mind for our brother?"

George's face revealed none of the laughter that normally lurked beneath the surface. Venice felt her jaw drop.

"Excuse me?" she stuttered, a burst of nervous laughter slipping from her lips, "How is that any of your business?"

"Oh come on, Moon. As Charlie's brothers, we have a right to make sure you're not going to hurt him, or mess with him, in any way."

Venice leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and fixed her bosses with the harshest stare she could manage.

"As much as I love the both of you, our relationship is absolutely none of your business, but even so, I have absolutely no intention of hurting your brother. I'm rather fond of Charlie, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Without another word, she rose and stalked from the office, waiting until she was out of hearing range before letting out the rest of the laughter that bubbled in her chest. Tears were dripping down her cheeks before she could finally breath normally again.

"Moon! We can hear you!"

Fred's voice came roaring out of the office, setting her off again. She giggled through her morning duties, rearranging displays and refilling candy bins.

When the bell above the door jingled, announcing the arrival of the first customer of the day, it took her a moment to arrange her features into a semi-serious expression. She heard the footsteps approaching the counter; when she turned to offer a greeting, the words died in her throat.

It was Charlie.

He was holding the biggest bouquet of flowers she'd ever seen in her life; lilies, tulips, and quite a few she didn't recognize, including some that were waving around even though the air in the shop was quite still.

Charlie's grin widened impossibly larger when her jaw dropped open.

"I hate to have to bring you flowers twice in a row, but I saw these today, and I just...I couldn't resist. They were calling your name, so I just had to."

Numbly, she reached out for them, inhaling the gorgeous fragrance.

"Charlie," she finally stuttered, "they're absolutely beautiful!"

She looked up at him, swallowing slowly when she saw how close he'd gotten. Gently, he took her chin in his hand and bent to press a kiss to her forehead.

"Not as beautiful as you."

He pressed another kiss to her lips as her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. She turned away, setting the bouquet on the counter just as Fred came sauntering out of the back room. His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as he saw the color of her face.

"I'm not even going to ask what's been going on out here, but I will ask you two to stop; you're scaring away the customers!"

Charlie aimed a punch at his brother when Fred slinked past, throwing Venice a wink as he disappeared down an aisle.

"And not that I'm not happy to see you, Charlie, but what are you doing here?"

Charlie wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug.

"I just wanted to see you, and to ask you if you'd go to lunch with me. I, erm, I have a few things to take care of this morning, and I wasn't sure I'd get another chance to talk to you."

She nodded, staring up at him as she rested her chin on his chest.

"I'd love to go to lunch with you. I normally take my break around two-thirty or so, if that's okay."

"That's perfect."

Another kiss on her forehead, and he pulled away.

"I'll see you then. Don't let the twins pester you too much, love," he added with a wink.

"I never do."

They smiled at each other once more as he slipped out the door. Venice turned back to straightening the counter-top displays, humming under her breath.

The rest of the morning flew past. The shop was constantly busy now, and with the hundreds of people firing questions at her, and small children messing up the displays that were her responsibility to straighten, she didn't stop moving once. It was a relief when she finally spotted Charlie in the crowd, extracted herself carefully from the group of children swarming around the Nosebleed Nougats, and pushed her way over to him.

"Hi!"

Charlie touched the tip of her nose with a finger, his eyes smiling warmly at her.

"Busy day?"

She nodded, blowing a stray strand of hair from her face.

"Are you ready for a break, then?"

She nodded again, already turning her head from side to side, trying to spot either of the twins in the throng. She finally caught a glimpse of Fred's flaming hair disappear into the back room. She turned back to Charlie.

"I'll be right back; I have to let them know I'm leaving. Meet you outside?"

Charlie nodded and slipped back out the door.

Fred and George were huddled together over the desk when she made it to the office. She was almost afraid to ask what they were designing now. They didn't look up until she cleared her throat rather loudly.

"I'm taking my lunch," she announced when they were finally paying attention. Both of them immediately broke into grins.

"Right-o," said George, turning his head away and pretending to cough into his sleeve.

"Have fun," said Fred, hastily clearing his own throat.

She could swear she heard them both sniggering as she stepped back into the hall, her brows knitting together as she puzzled over their behavior. Halfway between the office and door, she resolved to just forget it.

Fred and George weren't exactly known for being serious, after all.

Charlie was waiting for her just outside the door, his hands in his pockets, whistling nonchalantly.

His grin looked almost like Fred's as she fought to pin her unruly hair back in place, finally giving it up as a bad job and letting it swirl down around her shoulders. She had to smile when she caught Charlie staring at it.

"Something I can do for you, Mr. Weasley?" She stuffed her hairpins into the pocket of her magenta robes as she spoke. Charlie shook his head.

"Nope, nothing." He tucked her arm in his and started walking. "Let's go to lunch."

They ended up at the Leaky Cauldron again, seating themselves at the same table. Charlie pulled her chair out for her, seating her so her back was to the crowd, and the only thing she could see was him as he sat down across from her. Not doubting he had a specific motive, she watched him silently for a moment, resting her chin in her palm. After a long, silent moment, broken only by Tom the barkeep taking their order, Charlie started to fidget. She watched him a moment longer and then decided to have pity on him.

"Something bothering you, Charlie?" she asked innocently, smoothing her napkin onto her lap.

He shook his head, smiling gratefully as Tom took that moment to interrupt once again, placing their drinks on the table between them.

"No. I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

He didn't meet her eyes as he spoke, and hers narrowed, her suspicions raised once more.

"You just seemed a little...uncomfortable. But if you're sure you're fine..."

She let the rest of the sentence hang but he didn't take the bait.

They ate quietly when Tom brought their plates. Venice would have enjoyed the silence and peace more if she hadn't wanted so desperately to know what Charlie was thinking. She kept shooting him furtive glances over the top of her turkey sandwich, waiting for the opportune chance to pounce.

Unfortunately, Charlie's silence carried clear into dessert.

Finally, when both of them were stuffed and their dessert plates were near licked clean, he cleared his throat, shifted in his chair again, and locked his gaze with hers.

"Venice, you already know that I had a few errands to run this morning."

She nodded when he paused, letting him know she was listening.

"Well, the most important thing I did this morning was quit my job."

He paused again. For half a second she didn't understand, and then the words sunk in. She gasped, her eyes widening.

"You quit your job! Charlie! Why?"

He grinned.

"I quit my job in Romania so I could take a job with Gringott's, here, in London."

She stared at him, not quite willing to believe her ears.

"Here? In-in London?" she finally stammered, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. If Charlie said what she was suddenly thinking...

"In London, yeah. I've been dreading going back to Romania anyway, and the thought of having to go back and being away from you...well...I decided it was just too hard. So I'm taking a room here at the Leaky Cauldron, and I'm going to be moving in at the end of the week. I'm staying in London, Venice. Staying."

She could feel her mouth hanging open, her jaw somewhere in her lap, but she couldn't speak, could barely even make sense of his words.

He was staying.

Charlie was staying.

He wasn't going back to Romania.

They hadn't talked about it at all, but secretly she'd been dreading the end of his vacation. She had been completely willing to have a long-distance relationship with Charlie, but she'd never have dreamed...

"You're staying...," she whispered. Suddenly she felt like crying.

Charlie's face was anxious now as he watched her reaction. She wondered at it herself.

She felt like jumping up and down, felt like throwing her arms around his neck, but she was frozen to her seat.

"Venice? Are you all right?"

Charlie was kneeling beside her now, his expression beyond anxious and nearer to being downright scared.

"Venice, say something, please."

Something in his words unlocked her voice, and the words finally came spilling out.

"Here I was, trying to brace myself for when you actually had to go back to Romania, and I hated the thought of you being so far away, but I would have managed, for you, you know, and now you're telling me you're staying...Charlie! You're staying!"

And then she flung her arms around his neck, knocking him off balance and throwing them both to the floor.

His laughter rumbled around the room as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

"I was afraid you were going to have something awful to say, judging by the look on your face. You had me scared for a minute there, love."

"I'm sorry, it was just so sudden...I didn't even know what to think."

He caught her chin in his hand again as they both got to their feet.

"And you're really happy about this? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

She nodded her head vehemently.

"I'm really, truly happy, Charlie."

His smile in the instant before he crushed his lips to hers was triumphant.

Charlie broke the news to his family at dinner that evening. Predictably, Molly cried, pulling Charlie to her, sobbing into his shirt. Charlie let her cry, his eyes amused as he made faces at Venice over the top of Molly's head.

When her mum had finally calmed down, Ginny piped up.

"Does that mean I have to give Charlie his room back?"

The tiny kitchen exploded with laughter. Between chuckles Charlie shook his head.

"No, Ginny. I'm taking a room at the Leaky Cauldron. It's closer to Gringott's anyway, and I wouldn't want to put my dear, sweet, favorite sister out."

He wrapped an arm playfully around Ginny's neck, snorting as she punched him in the ribs and tried in vain to pull free.

"What are you going to be doing at Gringott's?" Harry asked once things had finally calmed down.

"I'll be the new head dragon keeper. Seems the bloke in that position now is ready for an early retirement, so they were quite ecstatic when I told them I was in need of a job. Hired me on the spot."

He sat back down at the table beside Venice, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him.

"My bosses in Romania weren't too pleased when I let them know I wouldn't be coming back, but the pay at Gringott's is better, the hours are better, and I get to be home every night."

He winked at Venice and she blushed to the roots of her hair, starting off another round of laughter.

Later that night, back at her flat, Charlie and Venice were curled up on the sofa together when he finally voiced the question she knew had been on his mind all evening.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

She shifted around so she could see his face, stroking a hand down his cheek so he would meet her eyes.

"Why do you say that?"

He sighed, searching for the right words.

"Because we've only been together for what, two days? And now I'm moving back to England so I can be closer to you...it doesn't sound very sane, does it?"

She giggled and snuggled into his chest, feeling his arms snake around her to hold her close.

"No, it doesn't really sound sane, but I'm very, very glad you're going to be around. This would be complicated if you were in Romania," she pointed out, waving her hand to indicate their current positions.

Charlie laughed with her as she giggled again.

"I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes, Venice. You light up my whole world."

For a moment she forgot to breathe. She lifted her head and stared up at Charlie, waiting for him to start laughing, waiting for it to be a joke, but his face was completely serious.

"I...I don't know what to say to that, Charlie."

It was hard to speak past the sudden lump in her throat. Charlie was right; it was completely insane to care so much about someone you'd just met, but his words had summed up her own feelings so exactly that she simply had no other way to explain it. It was very easy to picture herself being with Charlie for a very long time...the realization both thrilled and frightened her.

She pulled away from him slowly, sitting up so she could look him full in the face.

His face was calm, his eyes untroubled, as he waited for her to speak.

"I just...I want to tell you that you make me feel the exact same way, Charlie. I'm crazy about you."

There. She'd said it.

She could feel the heat creeping up her neck and into her cheeks, but she held his gaze.

"Ah, Venice..."

He reached out for her and she allowed him to pull her close once more, closing her eyes and reveling in the feeling. Being with Charlie felt like being home, even if it made her as crazy as Luna Lovegood for saying so.


	6. And On Goes the Lightbulb

Over the next few weeks Venice found herself spending a lot of time at Charlie's. Tom had rented him out the largest room when Charlie had told him he'd be staying indefinitely, and it was quite interesting to help Charlie unpack. She'd had to stifle a laugh when she'd found the box labeled "Quidditch", and discovered it to be full of children's books and stuffed animals. Solemnly, she'd handed that box to Charlie without revealing that she'd opened it. She hadn't seen the box since and was under a good suspicion that he'd hidden it in the hopes that she'd _never_ see it.

They had dinner at the Burrow almost every night, ending the evenings more often than not with long talks as they sat, curled in each other's arms, on her sofa.

It was getting hard to imagine a life without Charlie.

The Weasleys insisted that Venice bring her parents along for dinner one night, and inwardly Venice cringed, imagining all the things that could go wrong.

Thankfully, nothing did.

Her parents laughed until they cried at the antics of Fred and George. Arthur and her father, Peter, had a lively conversation during dinner about carburetors and spark plugs. Venice was quite certain that most of the conversation went over Arthur's head, but Peter was very patient, not minding at all when he had to repeat himself. Molly took an instant liking to her mother, Sandra, and the two women were fast friends by the time the evening drifted to a close.

Venice escorted her parents back to their house alone, waiting with baited breath for her parents to tell her what they'd thought of both the Weasleys and of Charlie.

But it wasn't until she opened the door to leave, her mother at her heels, that either of her parents said a word about the evening.

She'd turned to give her mother a hug, and Sandra had pulled her closer than usual.

"We love Charlie," she whispered in her daughter's ear, "and we loved the Weasleys. You'll tell them, won't you?"

Wordlessly, Venice nodded, too stunned to speak. Sandra smiled at her, her eyes twinkling, and her own lips had formed a smile in response.

She'd Apparated home then, so distracted that she walked right by Charlie in the hall outside her door without even noticing him.

He'd cleared his throat to get her attention, causing her to jump half a mile and let out a startled sort of gasp.

"Are you all right?"

She bent to retrieve her keys from where she'd dropped them.

"I'm fine, just thinking."

She glanced up at him, unable to hold back the smile she could feel lurking at the corners of her mouth.

"What are you thinking about?"

They stepped inside her flat; Charlie shut the door quietly behind them and pulled her into the living room.

She let him flop onto the sofa and pull her down onto his lap before she answered his question.

"Mum and I were talking after I took them home. My parents absolutely loved your family, and they were very impressed with you."

"Well, that's good news. I was a little worried about meeting your father, to be quite honest. I had this vision in my head of this huge giant, waiting to beat me up if I should fumble this relationship in any way at all."

She had to laugh at that.

"My da wouldn't beat you up even if you DID hurt me. He knows I'm a dab hand at hexes."

"Are you saying you would hex me?"

She shrugged innocently.

"If the situation called for it..."

She deliberately let her sentence hang. She let out a shriek a moment later as Charlie's fingers descended upon her sides and started tickling.

She went limp, sliding out from beneath his arms and landing in a heap on the floor. Jumping up, she made a mad dash for the kitchen, brandishing a wooden spoon at Charlie as he followed her.

He laughed loudly when he saw her choice of weapon.

"What are you going to do, hex me with a spoon? Ah, Venice, here I thought you were smart..."

She whipped the spoon at his head; he dodged the missile agilely and darted across the room, nearly catching her as she slipped around the table, trying to keep as much space between them as possible.

"You're going to find yourself minus an eye, Weasley!"

"Bring it, Moon!"

She let him get a few steps closer and then launched herself at him, knocking him to the floor.

She kissed him hard, rubbing her lips over his until he moaned.

"Oh, I'll bring it, Weasley."

He silenced her with another kiss.

Another month passed; Charlie had practically moved into her flat. He spent more time with Venice than he did at work or anywhere else. Not that she was complaining, of course. She hated to be away from him. Even going to work was hard, knowing that she'd only get to see him at the end of the day. Gringotts frowned on its employees taking long lunches to be with their girlfriends, a policy she and Charlie both hated.

Fred and George teased her to no end every time she left work early, unable to stand being without Charlie for another moment, but she knew they were both secretly happy their brother had finally found someone.

Being with Charlie was as easy as breathing. They were made for each other, were destined for each other, and she was only too happy to oblige destiny by being with him as much as possible.

She'd even toyed with the idea of asking Charlie to move in, but something held her back. Embarrassment, perhaps, or the inability to squelch the last unreasonable bit of fear that he would say no.

One Monday morning, Charlie Apparated to her flat bright and early. Venice was still in bed, enjoying the peace of the early morning. Seeing Charlie poke his head through her open bedroom door made her feel like singing.

"Good morning, beautiful," he whispered, padding across the floor to slip beneath the covers beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, pressing kisses to her hair.

She snuggled against him.

"What are you doing here so early, Charlie?"

"I needed to talk to you. I had a bit of a chat with the twins last night; you don't have to go to work today."

She twisted around, trying to see his face.

"You're joking! It's Monday; it's always busy, they'll need me!"

Charlie shook his head firmly.

"Not today, they don't. The only things I want you to do today are to take a long, hot, bubble bath, and relax, and then you're meeting me at my place for dinner at five-thirty."

"Why am I taking the day off? If you're taking me out for dinner, you know the twins will let me out of work early."

Charlie sighed, his eyes twinkling at her.

"You don't give up, do you? I don't want you going anywhere near work today, Venice. That's an order. Just relax. Take the day and do whatever you want, for as long as you want. You deserve it."

Frowning at him, trying to figure out the motives behind his actions, she finally nodded.

He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose.

"That's better. I didn't want to have to hex you, but I would have if you hadn't agreed."

She shoved him playfully.

"You're such an ogre! You'd hex your own girlfriend?"

"Maybe if she wasn't always so stubborn..."

She tried to roll away but he held her fast, turning her in his arms so he could kiss her properly.

Ogre or not, it was hard to be mad when he made her heart race like that.

When Charlie had finally left for work, Venice rolled out of bed, wrapped herself in her robe, and headed to the kitchen, intent on a long, leisurely breakfast.

When she rounded the corner she froze in mid-step.

Her kitchen table, and half the counters, were covered in flowers of every shape, size, and type imaginable.

An envelope was propped against the front-most bouquet on the table, bearing her name in large, bold lettering so she wouldn't overlook it.

Smiling broadly, thinking of ways she was going to repay the most fabulous boyfriend in the history of the world, she moved forward and picked up the envelope.

The fold of paper inside was surprisingly thick. Her curiosity peaked and she unfolded it slowly. At the top of the first paper, written again in bold letters, was the heading "A flower for every reason I love you". Her eyes flicked down the page and her mouth fell open.

_Your gorgeous eyes_

_Your sexy smile (Yeah, I said sexy)_

_The way your eyes sparkle when you laugh_

_How you always smell bloody amazing..._

The list went on and on; she flipped the first page over, shocked to see that the list continued there, and on the next page, and the next, and the next. Her heart fluttered madly in her chest and her legs threatened to collapse beneath her. She grasped for the nearest chair and lowered herself into it, staring around the room with eyes that were suddenly filled with tears.

It was almost too good to be true...

She gasped suddenly, the pieces clicking into place.

Charlie, getting her the day off and telling her to pamper herself.

Charlie, filling her kitchen with flowers.

Charlie, writing her the sweetest, longest, most ridiculous note she'd ever laid eyes on.

Charlie, taking her out to dinner tonight.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, the tears flowing in earnest now. Was it completely idiotic to cry when you were so insanely happy?

She pushed herself out of the chair, a stupid grin plastered on her lips now.

Her plans for a leisurely breakfast went completely out the window as a new idea formed. She rushed through breakfast, barely tasting the sausages she stuffed hurriedly into her mouth.

After a quick shower, she carefully slid the numerous pages of Charlie's note back into the envelope, sticking the whole thing into the back pocket of her jeans. Her first stop of the day was the Burrow, and she knew Ginny would want to read it.

She almost made it out the door before she realized she was wearing two completely different shoes. Laughing at herself for having her mind so completely on other things, she quickly traded them for a pair that matched, put up the wards on her flat, and Apparated straight into the Burrow's kitchen.

For the first time ever, the room was completely empty. For a moment she stood in the middle of the floor, listening, and the sound of voices drifted in from the living room. She darted in that direction, praying silently that Ginny was home.

And Ginny was; she was the first person Venice spotted as she rounded the corner. She was sitting on the floor, playing Exploding Snap with Ron, and she jumped when Venice burst into the room.

"Ginny, I need to talk to you!" she gasped. Ginny turned around and raised an eyebrow.

"Is something wrong?" she asked when she'd gotten a good look at Venice's face. Venice wasn't sure what her expression was, but Ginny immediately rose to her feet and took her friends' arm.

"Ron...I'll have to finish this later..."

He nodded silently, watching them go with a smirk that clearly said he though they were both crazy.

Once in the safety of Ginny's room, Venice pulled the envelope from her pocket and thrust it into Ginny's hands.

"Read it! Just read it."

Hesitantly, Ginny slid the papers out and unfolded them. Venice watched her eyes moved as she scanned down the page. She let out a low gasp when she'd gotten to the bottom of the page.

"Venice, what's going on?"

Venice shrugged a shoulder, unable to keep the smile from her face.

"This morning Charlie comes into my room and tells me he's talked the twins into giving me the day off, and that the only thing I'm allowed to do is lounge around and 'pamper myself', as he put it. And then when I get up and go into the kitchen, my kitchen is filled with flowers! I barely had space to make my breakfast! I have to meet him at his place for dinner tonight, and Ginny, unless I've completely lost my mind...I think Charlie's going to propose!"


	7. OMG

"_...and Ginny, unless I've completely lost my mind...I think Charlie's going to propose!"_

Ginny let out a completely uncharacteristic shriek.

"Oh…MERLIN! Venice!"

"I know!" Venice cried, bursting into tears all over again.

Ginny flung her arms around the other girl.

"Why are you crying?"

"I don't know!" Venice wailed. "I'm so happy, I really am...I don't know why this surprised me so much...Ginny, you have to help me! You know I haven't got anything to wear to dinner tonight, and I'm completely bollocks at shopping...will you help me find a dress? Please please please say yes! I'm desperate!"

Ginny laughed, pushing Venice onto the bed.

"Yes, of course I'll help you! Sit down, breathe, and let me change; I'm not going shopping in my pajamas, no matter how _desperate_ you are."

She chuckled as she stepped to her dresser, pulled a few things out, and left the room. Venice put her hands over her face and pulled in a couple deep breaths, trying to slow the racing of her heart. Ginny was back before Venice was ready, dressed in jeans and a sweater with a large 'G' knitted on the front. Venice had to smile when she saw it; she knew firsthand the wonders of Molly's hand-knitted Weasley sweaters. She'd gotten one for Christmas the year before, but thankfully, hers had simply been a simple, dark blue, no letters knitted on the front.

Ginny cast her friend a questioning glance.

"Do you need a minute?"

The smirk that was lurking at the corners of her mouth ruined the serious tone of her voice. Venice snatched a pillow from the bed and launched it at Ginny.

"Yes, you brat, I'm ready. Let's go before I change my mind."

Three hours and several shops later, Venice stood before a large mirror, twirling slowly in a circle, a huge grin on her face.

"This is it, Ginny! This is it! I'm sure this time, I promise."

The brilliant green material flowed neatly down to her ankles, the off-the-shoulder top showing the perfect amount of skin. Ginny twirled her finger in a circle, a silent command for Venice to spin around one more time. Feeling silly, Venice obliged, and Ginny sighed dreamily.

"You're right; it's absolutely perfect!"

Impulsively, Venice threw her arms around her friend, feeling the sudden, crazy urge to cry again.

"Thanks for your help, Weasley."

"Anytime, Moon. Anytime."

Two hours later Venice was in a state of near hysteria. Her imagination refused to stop creating images of Charlie down on one knee in various places; the Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley, the Burrow…

Her hands shook as she dried her hair with her wand, her knees wobbled as she slipped into the dress. Her stomach twisted in knots as she coiled her hair atop her head and charmed it in place; if she couldn't force herself to relax she wouldn't be able to eat anything, and then Charlie would certainly know she suspected something…

_Get a grip on yourself, girl!_

Fully dressed, she sank onto the bed and closed her eyes, breathing deeply in and out, counting to seven between each breath.

After a few moments she heaved a sigh and lurched off the bed. She wandered down the hall without paying much attention to where she was going, ending up in the kitchen. The flowery smell that assaulted her nose made her smile, and she relaxed a bit at the sight of the bouquets.

_Relax, silly: you KNOW he loves you._

Her smile widened; yes, she DID know Charlie loved her. A man that wasn't in love with a woman did not buy her flowers, and he most certainly did NOT buy her several _dozen_ bouquets of them.

She sat down and took another deep breath, closing her eyes again.

She sat like that, silent and still, until a sharp tingle in her toe as her foot woke up made her jump. Her eyes flew to the clock on the kitchen wall, and her heart jumped in her chest.

Ten minutes.

She got up, patting a clammy hand over her hair as she went to find her shoes.

Five minutes.

She slipped her wand into her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and stepped out the door.

She waved a hello at Tom as she weaved her way around the tables inside the Leaky Cauldron. He grinned his toothless grin at her as he wiped the bar to a shine.

She started up the stairs, pausing on the first landing to take a few deep breaths.

Summoning her last amount of nerve, she turned the corner. Charlie's room was at the end of the short hallway; she could see his door as soon as she'd rounded the corner.

She smoothed the skirt of her dress as she moved down the hallway, her lips breaking into a smile as she lifted a hand to knock on Charlie's door.

For a moment there was no response, and then she heard Charlie's terrified voice.

"Venice! RUN!"

She didn't have time to process his words; with a _bang_ that set her ears ringing the door exploded, throwing her violently across the hall. Her head connected with the wall and she collapsed.

"_Venice!_"

She heard Charlie screaming her name from a million miles away. Something warm and wet was dripping into her eyes; she couldn't see, couldn't move.

Another explosion shook the floor beneath her. Something heavy landed on her chest, forcing the air from her lungs. She gasped uselessly, head swimming.

Charlie screamed again; the sound ripped through her, right to her heart.

She summoned every ounce of willpower, forcing herself onto hands and knees, crawling blindly toward where Charlie's voice had sounded.

"Charlie! Charlie, where are you? What's happening?"

The dust was so thick she started coughing and couldn't stop. She swiped a hand across her eyes as she bumped headfirst into the wall, the pale color blending perfectly with the dust.

"Charlie!"

There was no answer.

She stared around her, straining her eyes, seeing nothing.

A sudden movement beside her, a footstep, the swish of a cloak.

"Charlie?"

Silence.

She stayed where she was for a moment, waiting for the dust to settle so she could properly see. When she could finally make out the outlines of Charlie's furniture, she was horrified at what she saw.

Everything was dismantled, out of place. The bed had been thrown against the wall, the headboard smashed to splinters. There was a scorch mark on the wall opposite, the desk and chair beneath it lying in pieces, as though something heavy had landed on them.

But most importantly, there was no Charlie.

She pushed herself to her feet, struggling back out to the hallway against a wave of dizziness.

Still no Charlie.

Her stomach dropped into her feet and she swayed where she stood, grasping for the wall.

Footsteps were pounding up the stairs, concerned voices shouting her name and Charlie's. A pair of arms caught her as she collapsed…


	8. Now What?

She was aware of a sudden cacophony of voices, swarming around her like a cloud of angry bees. Arms were lifting her, cradling her.

A hand brushed her cheek; fingers flitted against the pulse at her wrist.

Her head was spinning violently. The entire world felt as though it was doing cartwheels.

"Venice?"

The deep voice rumbled through her. She summoned every ounce of energy and pulled her eyes open.

A shock of red hair…concerned brown eyes…Her heart leaped in her chest.

"Charlie!" She gasped, struggling to sit up, to move at all. The arms tightened around her, holding her in place.

"Easy, easy…we're taking you to the Burrow, Venice. Just hold on."

Disappointment surged through her.

It wasn't Charlie's voice.

It was Bill, Bill that clutched her tightly to his chest as they moved, Bill that cradled her like a doll in his muscular arms. She caught the swaying of his chest now, and the motion of his legs striding across the ground.

She sagged against him, shivering as the heat from his body pressed against her cold, clammy skin.

"It'll be okay, Venice, just breathe. We're almost there."

Bill's arms tightened around her and she was faintly aware of the uncomfortable sensation as they Apparated.

Molly's voice hovered around her a moment later like an anxious butterfly. She heard the gentle rumble of Bill's voice, and somewhere in the background, the concerned hum that was Ginny.

"M-M-Molly?"

She stuttered the words past lips that felt frozen.

Warm, gentle hands pressed against her own.

"Yes, Venice?"

"Where's Charlie? Is he all right?"

"I'm sure he's fine."

Eyes still focused on Bill, she didn't see the tears that flooded Molly's eyes, or the look she sent Ginny.

Bill hugged her even closer as he started moving again. Her head lolled limply against his shoulder. Her head was still spinning, making her dizzy. Her chest ached with each breath, and a dull throb began to bloom at the base of her skull. Her eyes slid shut, and she began to drift….

Back downstairs, Bill was at a loss for the right words to explain. Ginny's face was pale and drawn, and Molly was weeping silently into her handkerchief.

"I've got to go find Dad," Bill muttered after a long, uncomfortable pause. "The faster we start looking, the faster we can find out what happened."

He strode purposefully from the kitchen, but not before Ginny saw the tear slip down his cheek.

She woke alone, in Ginny's room. The moon cast pale, silver light across the walls. For a moment she could only lie there, staring at the ceiling, numb. She felt empty; she wrapped her arms around her chest, for one crazy moment fearing she could feel the gaping hole in her chest.

It was hard to breathe past the lump in her throat.

She couldn't just stay here, huddled under the blankets.

She had to find him.

She threw the blankets back, shivering as the cold air hit bare skin; she was still wearing the green dress. It was covered in dirt, the bodice torn, the skirt tattered. Her eyes flooded.

She stumbled to the door on wooden legs, unable to shake the feeling that this was all a terrible dream.

The door swung open before she could even reach for the handle, flying inward and revealing Ginny. She nearly dropped the glass she held in one hand.

"Venice! You shouldn't be up! Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, Ginny…I have to go…I have to go home…I need to go find Charlie…"

She pushed past Ginny, pointing herself toward the stairs. Her knees wobbled and she almost collapsed as the hallway took a vicious spin. Ginny caught her elbow and, with surprising strength, hauled her upright.

"You need to get back into bed, right now…Did you hit your head?"

Venice stared at Ginny blankly.

"I need to go," she repeated. She tried pulling away from Ginny, but the other girl's fingers only tightened on her arm.

"No; come on. Back into bed with you."

Ginny pulled her back into the bedroom, pushed her back down onto the bed, and tucked her in with more force than necessary.

"Now, you stay here! I'll go get Mum. I'll be right back, Venice."

Ginny disappeared out the door; the light died as she shut it behind her.

Venice tried to relax against the pillows, but the throbbing at the base of her skull made it impossible. She closed her eyes against a wave of frustrated tears.

Charlie's screams were echoing in her head and they tore at her, down to the very fibers of her soul. She felt useless, scared, and frustrated.

She curled into a ball beneath the covers and wrapped her arms around her knees. She was so cold, even beneath what was surely a mountain of blankets.

She forced her eyes closed, forced herself to breathe slowly, and evenly.

She was almost asleep when the door opened again.

"Venice?"

This time it was Molly.

She didn't want turn over, didn't want to have to face Charlie's mother, not without being able to explain what had happened, why Charlie was missing.

"Venice, dear, are you asleep?"

She kept quiet, concentrating solely on breathing.

After a moment, Molly tiptoed from the room, shutting the door silently.

Feeling guilty now, on top of everything else, Venice pressed her face into the pillow and let the tears flow.

Venice slept through most of the next two days, exhausted both mentally and physically. She was almost certain Molly was slipping her sleeping potions, but if so, she welcomed them.

Sleep was a needed relief from the guilt, and the fear, and the constant ache in her chest from the hole Charlie's disappearance had left behind.

Slowly, between bouts of sleep, she told her side of the events to Molly, who never seemed to leave the room. It sounded ridiculous, even to her own ears.

The explosion…the way he'd vanished without even a sound…

It frightened her.

Molly in turn had shared what little Arthur and Bill had discovered. There wasn't much, just a lone, vague footprint in the dust, inside Charlie's apartment, that belonged to neither Charlie nor Venice.

That was it.

One single footprint.

Venice couldn't put into words how disappointed she was. She'd been praying, and dreaming, that they'd find something helpful, something that at least _began_ to explain what had happened

Finally, she couldn't take Molly's concerned looks any longer.

She wanted to go home, to her apartment. She needed to be _alone_.

Molly fretted over her all the way down the stairs, and through the kitchen, fussing at her as she fastened her cloak securely over the green dress she'd refused to change out of.

"Are you sure you don't want one of us to come with you?" Molly asked, frowning, patting at Venice's hair.

Venice nodded, managing a small, tight smile.

"I'll be fine, Molly. Thank you."

She turned then and darted out the door, before anyone could try and talk her out of it, and before she gave in to the fresh wave of tears.

At her apartment, the smell of flowers assaulted her nose as soon as she opened the door. She walked past the kitchen with her eyes closed, not trusting herself.

In the bedroom, Charlie's Weasley sweater lay across the foot of the bed, where he'd left it only a few days before.

She burst into sobs, snatching up the sweater and pressing her face into it, inhaling the wonderful, intoxicating scent that was Charlie.

She sank onto the bed, crying helplessly. The ache in her chest was growing, the emptiness growing harder and harder to bear. It threatened to consume her entirely.

She crawled under the covers, hugging the sweater close. If she closed her eyes, it was almost easy to pretend he was there, beside her, hogging the blankets, snoring gently.

"Oh, Charlie…I miss you," she sobbed.

Curled around his sweater, a sad excuse for the person it belonged to, she finally slipped into a fitful rest.


	9. One Step Forward, Twelve Steps Back

Days passed.

She didn't bother keeping track of time, didn't bother trying to remember what day it was. Time passed for her in a miserable blur; holed up alone in her apartment, she didn't even bother opening her curtains to let in the sun. Day or night, she didn't know and didn't care. It meant nothing.

Several times she heard someone at her door, knocking, desperately calling her name. Curled in the middle of her bed, Charlie's sweater pillowed beneath her cheek, Venice didn't answer.

After a while the knocking stopped, and the silence closed in.

Venice was barely holding together. She'd never been much for crying but now the tears threatened to spill over every moment of each and every day. She couldn't sleep; she was plagued by nightmares, her ears filled with the sounds of Charlie's screams as her mind replayed the scene over and over again. She couldn't eat: nothing would stay down. Being in the kitchen alone caused a flood of tears she couldn't stop…the counters were still covered with the slowly wilting bouquets that she couldn't bring herself to throw away. To her sleep-deprived, delusional mind, throwing them out felt like admitting once and for all that Charlie was gone, and wouldn't be coming back. As long as the flowers filled her countertops, he would be okay.

He'd come back to her.

She knew it was irrational but she couldn't convince herself otherwise. She was desperate.

She'd charmed Charlie's sweater so the smell of his cologne wouldn't fade. The scent was soothing, and if she closed her eyes tight and concentrated with all the energy she could muster, she could almost pretend he was lying in bed beside her, could almost hear the gentle roar of his snoring.

Her heart ached too much if she didn't pretend.

...

_Charlie was standing in her bedroom doorway, his lips curved into a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes the way she loved. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and he was leaning casually against the doorframe, watching her. She stretched dreamily, smiling back at him._

_"Come here," she whispered, patting the empty space beside her. His eyes darkened, a frown passing over his face for a split second, gone before she could be sure it was even there._

_"I can't stay, Venice. I just wanted to tell you how much I love you."_

_"Where are you going?"_

_He didn't answer her, just sent her another smile, and pushed away from the doorframe._

_"I love you, Venice. Don't forget that."_

_He turned away then and began to walk down the hall, out of sight. She sat up in bed, her heart pounding._

_"Wait! Charlie, where are you going?"_

_Silence was the only answer. He was gone. She felt the lump rise in her throat, felt the tears burn at the corners of her eyes, and then they spilled over, dripping down her cheeks. Her chest ached, her throat stung, and she collapsed onto the pillows, unable to stop the sobs..._

She was still crying when she woke, her pillow damp with tears beneath her cheek. She could hardly breathe past the lump in her throat.

The dream was still fresh, still vivid, at the front of her mind. It took a moment for Venice to realize it had even been a dream; it had felt so _real_. She was shivering violently beneath her blankets, her face damp with sweat. She hadn't been asleep for very long; the clock on the wall blared the time clearly as if it mocked her.

Venice rolled over and pulled the covers up over her head, swallowing down the rest of her tears. Her body ached, crying out desperately for sleep. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone more than an hour without being woken by a nightmare, and it had long since taken its toll on her.

Moments later her alarm clock began to beep, loudly and obnoxiously proclaiming the start of her day. Cursing aloud, Venice rolled out of bed, dreading the thought of having to face the day, but at the same time strangely relieved. Even if it was only for a few hours, work kept her mind away from Charlie…

...

"Hey Venice?"

Venice looked up from the display of Skiving Snackboxes she was mindlessly straightening, and tried to arrange her face into a pleasant expression.

"Yeah?"

"Mum wanted me to ask you if you wanted to come 'round for dinner tonight."

Fred's eyes were hopeful. She looked away, making a point of inspecting the boxes she'd gathered in her arms.

"I...I don't think so, Fred. I'm sorry. It's been a long day...I'm just tired."

Fred nodded slowly, studying her intently even though she wasn't looking at him. Her cheeks heated and she had to fight the urge to bolt from the shop.

"C'mon, Venice, it's been three weeks...Mum's worried. It's taken me a lot of fancy speeches to keep her from storming your apartment like it's an enemy castle she has to invade."

She smiled vaguely, arranging boxes with perfect precision, avoiding his gaze and praying inwardly he'd go away and leave her alone. Finally she heard him sigh and saw him retreat back to the counter out of the corner of her eye. She breathed a silent sigh of relief and concentrated on making the rows of boxes ruler-straight on each shelf.

It wasn't that she didn't want to see the Weasleys at all, because she did...She saw the twins every day at work, and Ginny had been coming over several times a week, checking on her, making sure she was okay. She just didn't want to see Molly. Venice didn't think she'd be able to handle it if Molly started mothering her, which was almost certain to happen because that's just the sort of person Molly was.

Venice knew she couldn't hide just how broken she really was, especially from Molly.

More often than not she woke at night screaming, crying, trying desperately to break the hold the nightmares kept on her. She couldn't eat much, her stomach turning into tight, uncomfortable knots if she even tried. And worst of all...worst of all was the giant gaping hole in her chest that made it impossible to breathe. Sometimes she was afraid to cross her arms over her chest, certain she'd be able to feel the wound.

Fred and George had tried keeping her away from the shop, but she'd ignored them. She needed to work. She needed to keep her mind busy. She did her best to pretend she was fine whenever she felt them watching her; she couldn't bear to let them see her break down.

She missed Charlie with every fiber of her being. She felt a bit like an Inferi most days, wandering aimlessly through work without being able to recall what she'd actually done when she got home at night. Her parents had tried to convince her to move home with them until she got back on her feet, but she couldn't. She couldn't leave this apartment. It was still ripe with Charlie's memory, and letting it go was too close to letting HIM go for her to bear.

She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to quell her tears. If she broke down at work the twins would absolutely positively send her to the Burrow, and it was that thought that made it easier to concentrate once more on the shelves in front of her.

When there was nothing left to straighten or tidy, or rearrange, she reluctantly made her way back up the counter. Fred was still standing there, the ledger open on the countertop in front of him. He was leaning on his elbow, breathing heavily, eyes closed.

"Fred?"

He jumped awake, letting out a startled gasp.

"George! I was just thinking!"

"It's just me, Fred. George isn't even here anymore. He left almost an hour ago. I just wanted to tell you I'm heading out."

"Everything all set, then?"

She nodded, barely managing to suppress a yawn. She snatched her cloak from the hook on the office door and tied it around her shoulders. She was always cold of late, the chill never truly leaving her bones.

"I'll see you in the morning, Fred."

She didn't see the smile he threw her as she moved toward the door. She slipped outside, pausing for a moment to readjust to the busy hustle and bustle of the crowd. It was Friday, and Fridays in Diagon Alley were always loud, and claustrophobically clustered with people. She winced at the noise level and slipped into the crowd, cringing every time someone inadvertently bumped into her as she attempted to slide past unnoticed.

She wanted nothing more than the sanctuary of her flat. Her pace quickened.

A flash of red caught her eye, at the edge of a crowd gathered outside the apothecary, flaming auburn hair glimmering in the dying evening light. Her breath caught in her chest.

"Charlie!"

She shouted the name before she could stop herself. Her feet propelled her forward, and then she was running, chasing after an elusive head of red hair.

She was certain it was him, so certain she could feel it deep in her very soul.

"Charlie! Wait, Charlie!"

She stumbled over a loose cobblestone and nearly fell, catching her balance at the last second. It had taken a mere instant, but in those precious seconds she'd lost him. Her quandary had vanished. Her heart beat a terrified tempo.

"Charlie!" She screamed his name, panicking as she spun in a circle, desperate to catch sight of him again.

She started to jog, glancing into shop windows and staring into alleyways as she passed, unable to admit to herself that she'd lost him, that he'd managed to slip through her fingers when he'd been so close.

She bolted down the street, screaming his name over and over, shoving past anyone that got in her way. Her face was wet with tears; they blurred her vision, turned the inhabitants of the street into fuzzy rainbows. She heard someone call her name but didn't stop running, didn't stop calling Charlie's name; the word kept bubbling forth like a volcano.

"Venice! Hey, c'mon now!"

An arm caught her around the waist, pulling her up short. She struggled to get free only to find herself wrapped in a bear hug, tucked securely against a sweater-clad chest.

George.

The giant "G" on his sweater gave him away. Venice sagged against him, crying so hard now she couldn't breathe. George patted her hair rather awkwardly as he waited out the worst of her tears.

She was so frustrated beneath the tears she wanted to let out another scream. How could she have let him get away? She angrily swiped the tears from her face with the sleeve of her cloak and pulled away from George.

"I could have caught up to him, George!"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Venice, Charlie wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere. You must have seen someone else."

He stepped forward and made to put his arm around her shoulders but she jerked away, indignant.

"I saw him! He was there, here. I know it was him!"

She backed away, glancing around again, praying she'd spot him in the crowd so George would believe her, but there was nothing. The crowd was starting to disperse, rushing to get home before night fell entirely. Several people were shooting her wary glances as they passed by. She glared at them, silently daring them to speak a word to her.

She wasn't crazy. She knew what she'd seen.

"Venice, why don't you come to the Burrow with me? Mum would love to see you, and so would Ginny...Maybe you could even stay for a couple days..."

She closed the distance between them and jabbed a finger angrily in his chest.

"Don't make me out to be some sort of lunatic, George Weasley! I saw Charlie! I SAW HIM."

George's mouth dropped open. Several wordless noises squeaked out, but she didn't stick around to hear them. She stalked away, infuriated and embarrassed at the same time.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes again and she blinked them away.

"I never said you were a lunatic; we're just worried about you! Come back, please, so we can talk!"

"Leave me alone, George!"

She shouted the words over her shoulder and broke into a run. She wouldn't be surprised if he tried to catch her again, and she was determined not to let it happen. She didn't trust herself to be civil with him, or to say something she wouldn't later regret.

She didn't remember the rest of the walk to her flat. The next thing Venice knew she was outside her door, waving her wand to release her wards. She flung the door open and stormed inside, slamming it shut behind her.

It was nearly impossible to breathe; her chest was tight, as though someone had tied a rope around her rib cage and was pulling it snug. She felt dizzy and ill, yet still seething with anger beneath it all. She was angry with George, and angry with herself, angry at anyone that had gotten in her way.

She could have caught up to him. Venice was so certain it had been Charlie that she would have sworn her life on it had anyone asked. She'd recognize that shade of hair, the muscular build of his shoulders, anywhere.

She sagged against the wall, bent over, and tried to breathe. Someone pounded on her door but she couldn't find her voice to answer them.

"Venice!"

The voice was muffled through the door but it sounded like Bill.

"Venice, open the door!"

She was frozen to the spot; her doorknob jiggled once, twice, and then the door banged open.

"Merlin! Are you okay?"

Venice merely shook her head. She clutched a hand to her chest, pressing against her ribs where the pain, the feeling of tightness, was the worst. A pair of hands pushed her down until she was seated on the carpet with her head between her knees.

"Just breathe, Venice. It's going to be okay."

Venice rested her head against her knees, eyes closed, concentrating on the air passing in and out of her lungs. Slowly, achingly slowly, the pain in her chest began to disappear. She was still dizzy, still felt ill, but she could breathe.

After a moment she picked her head up and glanced around. George was sitting beside her on the carpet, watching her silently. She couldn't quite read the look on his face.

"What happened, Venice?"

He sounded so worried. Her eyes filled with tears, several of them spilling over and rolling down her cheeks. Unable to speak, she could only stare at George as the tears came faster. George wrapped a brotherly arm around her shoulder, and then Venice was sobbing into his shirt. She was helpless against the flood of tears that poured out of her. George mumbled something, and she felt him pull away and stand up, but she couldn't move. She curled into a miserable ball there on the floor and wept.

Time passed. She didn't know how long she sat there, bawling, before George returned. He pulled Venice to her feet and looped his arm around her waist, holding her steady.

"We're going to the Burrow, Venice."

She wanted to protest but George was already turning on the spot, and then her flat was gone.


	10. Slow Downward Spiral

If George hadn't had his arm around her still, Venice would have collapsed when they landed on the Weasley's front lawn. Her eyes still blurry with tears, she couldn't see the grass beneath her feet. George hauled her toward the kitchen door, her toes dragging on the lawn.

She didn't see exactly when they stepped into the kitchen, but suddenly Molly had her arms wrapped around Venice in a motherly hug. As Molly's perfume surrounded her, Venice burst into tears once more, sobbing into Molly's shirt, clinging to the older woman for dear life. The dam had broken and there was no holding back the flood of tears that seemed to flow from her very soul. She cried until she couldn't breathe, and then she cried some more, until finally, throat sore and eyes swollen, there were no more tears.

Molly held Venice while she cried, patting her shoulder, rubbing her back soothingly. When Venice calmed, Molly steered Venice toward the table, where she slumped into a chair, wiping the dampness from her cheeks. Molly bustled about, fussing with the teapot. Venice closed her eyes, letting the homey sounds wash over her. After a few moments Molly set a cup of tea on the table beside Venice and took a seat opposite her, nursing her own cup of tea. Venice sipped at hers slowly, trying to ignore the way that Molly was staring at her.

When her cup was nearly empty, Venice finally met Molly's gaze. Molly's face gave away none of what she was thinking, so Venice waited. Molly wasn't known for keeping her silence, so it was only a matter of minutes. Venice toyed idly with the handle of her cup.

"You look like death warmed over, Venice."

Molly's voice was gentle, but completely serious; she sounded both concerned and a little frightened.

"Have you been eating?" Molly continued. Venice shrugged a shoulder. Truth be told, she didn't even remember the last time she'd eaten.

"Are you sleeping?"

Venice shrugged again.

"Venice," Molly prodded sternly. Venice swallowed hard, searching for the right words.

"I'm not…sleeping," she finally offered. She stared intently at the table, her cheeks flushing. "I try, but I have…nightmares…and when they wake me up, I can't get back to sleep."

Venice chanced a quick glance at Molly; the older woman was watching her quietly, her eyes serious.

"And I guess I'm not, well…eating much. I'm just not hungry at all."

She cleared her throat, fighting down a rush of tears.

"I just…I…I feel like I'm falling apart, Molly." Her voice broke and she coughed. "I can't hold on much longer."

"Oh, Venice…"

Molly came around the table before Venice even realized she'd moved, wrapping the younger girl in a tight hug.

"I could swear I saw Charlie today," Venice mumbled the words into Molly's shoulder. "In Diagon Alley. I would swear on my life it was him, but when I called his name he didn't answer, and then he just…disappeared. George thinks I'm crazy, but I know what I saw."

Venice pulled away from Molly, wiping at her face with her sleeve.

"I _felt_ him, Molly. I know it was Charlie."

Molly patted her shoulder.

"Venice, dear, you've been through quite a lot. You should rest."

Molly didn't believe her either. Numbly, Venice let Molly pull her to her feet and guide her out of the kitchen and toward the den, steering her toward the sofa.

"Why don't you try lying down? You'll feel better."

Venice obeyed, at a loss for the words she needed to argue. She curled into a ball, resting her head on the arm of the sofa, and allowed Molly to tuck her in. Venice was exhausted; within minutes her eyelids were drooping. She was aware of Molly talking, her voice low and soothing, and then she drifted into slumber.

Molly spent most of the next few days following Venice through the house, taking every opportunity she could to try and force Venice into eating something. She tutted loudly over how loosely Venice's robes hung on her too-slender frame. Venice felt like she couldn't breathe under Molly's constant watch, and when the opportunity presented itself she escaped outside, taking refuge in the garden.

She hadn't been in the garden in a long time. It was almost sad, being surrounded by so many flowers. It reminded her of Charlie's flowers, and the thought nearly made her cry. As it was she had to fight down the lump in her throat.

She sank onto the garden bench, curling her legs beneath her. She'd dreamed of Charlie again last night, and the dream still hung fresh in her memory. It was unsettling dreaming about him when he was so far out of her reach. It was as if her mind was taunting her, reminding her of just how much she missed this particular Weasley…

Ginny found her there in the garden some time later. Venice was lying on her back in the grass, staring up at the clouds. Ginny quietly stretched out on the ground beside her.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Venice whispered after a while.

"For what?"

Venice sighed.

"For everything. For getting involved with your family. I messed everything up."

Ginny rolled over; Venice could feel Ginny staring daggers at her but she kept her eyes on the clouds. Ginny sighed, exasperated, and rose up onto an elbow.

"Venice, you have _got_ to stop thinking like that!"

Venice opened her mouth to argue but Ginny shushed her.

"I mean it. Nobody in this family is mad at you, and I mean it when I say that. It's _not your fault_. If you don't stop saying it is I'm going to…I'm going to hex you!"

Venice started to cry. She sat up, turning quickly so Ginny wouldn't see her tears.

"I'm sorry! I just feel like this never would have happened if I'd never fallen for Charlie…"

Ginny wrapped her arms around Venice, squeezing tightly, sniffling in Venice's ear as she fought back her own tears.

"We're going to get through this, Venice, I promise. We're all here for you, and we all love you. And despite what your brain tries to tell you, we'll all do whatever we can to help you. I mean it. Whatever you need, ok?"

Venice nodded, scrubbing at her cheeks with her palms, and returned Ginny's hug. They sat like that, arms around each other, until Venice's leg fell asleep and Ginny complained, rather loudly, that she couldn't feel her rear. Venice let out a watery giggle and pulled away, rubbing the feeling back into her leg as Ginny stood up and stretched.

"Come on; Mum's probably got dinner ready, and I'm hungry."

Venice let Ginny pull her up from the grass and then followed the shorter girl back into the kitchen.

If Molly saw any trace of tears on their faces, she didn't say a word. She silently pointed them toward the table with the wooden spoon she held in one hand while she stirred a pot with the other.

Arthur and Ron were already squabbling over who was hogging all the butter. Venice sat down, watching them silently. Ginny's words had helped to lift a little of the weight from Venice's shoulders. She picked up the biscuit Ginny shoved across the table at her and took a large bite, feeling better than she had in weeks.

Despite Molly's arguments to the contrary, Venice went back to work with the twins a few days later. Venice loved being at the Burrow, but the walls were starting to close in and she needed some fresh air. She'd already missed more work in the past few weeks than she should have, and she was feeling horribly guilty for leaving the twins shorthanded for so long.

Fred put her to work setting up a new floor display, and Venice threw herself into the job. The morning passed by quickly; before she knew it George was all but throwing her out of the shop, insisting quite vehemently that she get some lunch before snapping the door shut firmly in her face. Venice made a rude gesture at George through the window before descending the few steps to the street. She wasn't particularly hungry, but there was a nagging ache growing at the base of her skull…maybe a few minutes away from the shop wouldn't hurt.

Venice wound up in the Leaky Cauldron without really knowing why. She took a seat at the bar, intending to order a sandwich, but instead she heard herself asking Tom for a double shot of Firewhiskey. He raised an eyebrow at her but did as she requested, setting the glass down on the bar before her. She downed it without a second thought, sputtering as it burned its way down her throat, and signaled for Tom to pour her another.

Again she downed it and signaled for another. She was feeling deliciously lightheaded now, and the whiskey no longer burned when she swallowed the next one in one gulp. Venice giggled, swaying giddily on her stool.

"Tom! Pour me another!"

"Miss Venice, are you sure?"

She stared silently at Tom until he poured her another. Venice savored this one, sipping it slowly, humming loudly. Her glass finally empty, she set a couple Galleons on the counter and got to her feet. Her legs nearly gave out beneath her; she clutched at the counter, laughing, until the room stopped swaying around her. She stumbled out the door, smiling at everyone, and tripped drunkenly up the stairs to the shop. She burst through the door, caught her shoe on the entry rug, and crashed to the ground. Venice lay there, snorting with laughter, until a pair of shoes appeared in front of her nose.

"What in the name of Merlin…"

"'Ello, Fred!" Venice twisted her neck at an awkward angle, trying to see his face from her spot on the floor. "I'm back from my lunch!"

Fred bent down and helped her off the floor, his nose wrinkled.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, eyes narrowed as Venice wobbled.

"No!" she scoffed loudly, pulling her arm out of his grasp. "I just had a bit of drink with lunch, that's all."

Fred watched her sway unevenly down the aisle toward the counter, her arms held out to keep her balance.

"What did you eat for lunch, Venice?" Fred asked as he followed her. Venice shot him a rather cheeky grin over her shoulder.

"Firewhiskey," she smirked, trying her best not to laugh again. "Firewhiskey, and more Firewhiskey! It was lovely! You should have joined me, Fred-we would have made a day of it!"

Fred pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, sighing loudly. Venice rounded the counter and leaned forward on her elbows, staring at him.

"You know," she stated boldly, "your eyebrows are awful bushy."

"What's going on?"

George came out of the office, ledger in one hand, quill in the other. He set the ledger down on the counter beside Venice, pausing for just a second before he leaned in closer to Venice and sniffed.

"Have you been drinking?" he blurted out, incredulous. Venice smiled broadly.

"Yes I have!" she announced proudly, twirling around in a circle, giggling like mad. She didn't see the look that passed between them as she clutched at the counter. Her head was spinning horridly but she just felt so _happy_.

"I love you guys," she blurted suddenly, turning to face the twins again. She patted George heartily on the shoulder and grinned broadly at Fred.

"Venice," Fred began slowly, "I think maybe you should go in the back and sit down for a while."

She stared at him blankly.

"Do you need me to check the ledger?" she asked, frowning. The twins normally had her balance the books at the end of the day, but it was barely past noon now. Fred cleared his throat.

"Venice, I want you to go into the office and put your head down for a few minutes." His voice was stern and Venice nodded meekly. Hanging her head like a small child in trouble, she stepped around Fred and plodded slowly down the short hall to the office. She sank into the creaky leather office chair and obediently put her head down on the desk.

The throbbing at the back of her skull was growing steadily worse, and the joy she had found in the way the room was spinning was quickly leaving.

Venice closed her eyes, telling herself it was just for a moment…a moment later she was sound asleep, snoring softly with her head pillowed rather awkwardly on a stack of inventory slips.

Venice woke later that evening with a terribly dry mouth and a horrible, pounding headache directly behind her eyes. She was still in the office, her neck stiff and sore from its position atop the desk. Someone had turned the light on, the brightness only serving to make her headache worse. Groaning, Venice sat up, shaded her half-open eyes with her hand, and lurched to her feet. Her intent was to flip off the light, but as soon as she was on her feet the door swung open and Fred bounced in.

"Have a good nap, Venice?" he shouted, slamming a stack of files onto the desk. The noise radiated through her pounding skull, making her wince.

"Fred," Venice groaned, "please don't do that."

"Do what?" he questioned, perfectly innocent even as she scowled at him.

"Please don't be so loud…my head is going to explode…"

"Oh…Oh I'm terribly sorry, Venice. What was I thinking?"

Venice didn't quite catch the load of sarcasm dripping from Fred's words.

Fred turned and for half a second Venice thought he was going to leave the office and leave her in peace. Instead he kicked the door shut, the glass panel trembling in its frame.

"Are you happy with yourself right now, Moon?" Fred asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking as threatening as a man dressed in neon pink robes can look.

Venice shook her head. She felt absolutely terrible, and on top of the vicious hangover was a thick layer of guilt. She'd mucked up, and she knew it.

"I'm sorry, Fred. I feel like a total idiot."

"You should," Fred stated blatantly. He pushed Venice back down into the chair, sighing heavily. "I'll be right back—don't you move."

Venice watched him go, her spirits sinking even further. The twins were going to fire her, she just knew it, and she wouldn't be able to blame them for a second if they did, because she absolutely deserved it. She dropped her head in her heads and silently prayed that the twins would make it fast and as painless as possible.

After a moment she heard Fred come back, this time with George close behind him. She glanced up just as George set a slightly-smoking goblet on the desk in front of her.

"Drink that, Venice—it'll help the headache," he explained. Venice snatched it up and took a large gulp, feeling the relief even as the thick potion slid down her throat.

"Bless you, George," Venice mumbled around another large mouthful of potion. The potion did nothing to lessen her feelings of guilt, but her head was no longer pounding with every beat of her heart and the light no longer burned straight through her eyeballs. The goblet empty, she set it back on the desk and, cringing inwardly, turned to face the twins.

They both looked quite stern, and Venice's heart skipped several beats.

"Venice, we've been thinking," George began, "and we think that maybe it might do you some good if you took some time off work."

"We'll still pay you, of course," finished Fred, "and we don't want you to think that we're asking you to take a leave of absence, we just…we feel that you need some time to, how shall I say, regroup. Get yourself back together."

"You…don't want me to work?"

Somehow this felt even worse than being fired.

"We just think you need some time, Venice. We know this has been hard for you, for all of us, but the fact remains that you haven't been, well, _handling it_ all that well."

"I'm not HANDLING it? What the hell does that even mean, George?"

"Don't get upset! You just haven't been yourself lately, Venice—we all see it except for you. We worry about you, a lot. Do you think it doesn't hurt us to see you like this?"

"Like _what_?" Venice hissed through clenched teeth.

"Living in the past, refusing to let go, or to move on."

"My boyfriend disappears without a trace and you want me to MOVE ON?" Venice heard herself shouting but she didn't stop. "Did you forget he's your BROTHER? Why am I the only one that acts like they even still care?"

"It's not healthy, Venice!" Fred shouted back. "If you keep clinging to this false hope you have that Charlie's coming back you're just going to end up hurt and disappointed!"

Hearing Charlie's name flung at her like that was a rude slap in the face. Venice stared at the twins, mouth agape.

"Ex_cuse_ me?" she stammered. "False hope?"

Venice got to her feet, feeling waves of anger coursing through her entire body.

"I'm sorry, but just because you've all given up on Charlie doesn't mean I have!"

She didn't stay to hear the rebuttal. Instead Venice ran, and she didn't stop until she'd reached the door to her flat. She slammed the door violently shut, darted down the hallway in bounding leaps, and buried herself deep under the blankets on her bed.

She wanted to cry, but she was still too upset to feel anything beyond anger, and underneath the anger, betrayal. She'd suspected for a while that most of the Weasley clan had given up hope, but it didn't make having her suspicions confirmed any less painful.

Venice rolled over, sighing with disgust… Even after Charlie had disappeared she'd never felt this alone. Knowing that she was the only one that believed he was still alive merely served to widen the gap between the Weasleys and herself.

Well, fine. If the twins wanted her to take time off work, maybe she'd just quit…

And if she quit, maybe she'd use her free time to do what nobody else cared enough to do—look for Charlie.

Venice nodded once, decision made. In the morning, as soon as the joke shop opened, she was going to quit.


	11. Alone' Is A 5-letter Word

Venice could not find the strength nor the will to pull herself out of bed the next morning. The decision that had seemed so certain and finite the night was now looming, dark and ominous, over her head. She'd dreamed nothing but nightmares, and even in the bright sunlight of early morning it was difficult to shake the dread that hung around her like a thick murky fog.

For a while she lay with her head buried beneath her pillow, trying to convince herself she was still dreaming, but when the sun started shining brightly into the room, even through the heavy curtains, it was impossible to pretend any longer. Groaning loudly, cursing, Venice climbed out of bed. There was a strange tightness in her chest that only seemed to grow when she reached her closet and saw her magenta work robes hanging at the front. Venice pulled them angrily from the hangers and wadded them all into a ball before throwing them toward the back of the closet. Out of sight, out of mind. She yanked on a pair of jeans and a sweater and then stomped her way into the kitchen.

She was halfway through her third cup of coffee when she heard Ginny's voice outside her door.

"Venice, let me in!"

Venice considered leaving Ginny in the hallway, but even in her black mood it was impossible to be that cruel to her best friend. Muttering under her breath, coffee in hand, she went to open the door.

Ginny started talking before Venice had opened the door properly.

"Fred and George told me what happened," Ginny spit the words out, nearly tripping over her tongue in her haste, "but you shouldn't listen to them. They don't really want you to leave, Venice! They don't want you to quit. They're just a pair of idiots."

Venice shrugged her off and swigged another sip of coffee as she debated her next words. Seeing Ginny here, now, in her flat…it only reminded Venice of the decision she'd already made. It was still fixed firmly in her mind, despite her earlier unease; all of the excuses she'd created to keep her job melted away until there was nothing left but resolve.

She was going to quit. It was time.

Sighing, Venice turned to face Ginny.

"I'm going to stop by the shop later…and I'm going to turn in my robes."

Ginny's mouth dropped open.

"What? You're going to quit?! Venice-"

"Don't, ok?" Venice interrupted loudly, "Don't try to talk me out of it. I've made up my mind. I'll never be able to find Charlie if I keep spending all my time at work, and I _am _going to find him."

Her anger from the previous evening came flaring back to life without warning, boiling hot and strong in the pit of her stomach. She was tired of everyone trying to convince her she was wrong. Ginny was staring at her like she'd officially gone round the twist, and when Ginny tried to speak Venice cut her off again.

"You might have given up, forgotten him, but I haven't. I can't, and I won't. I think maybe it's time for you to go, Ginny."

Ginny was still sputtering, searching for words, when Venice gently, but firmly, steered her back to the door and out into the hall.

"I'll talk to you later," Venice said politely, and then shut the door soundly in Ginny's face.

Not a minute later Ginny was once again shouting her name at the door.

"Venice Moon! You let me in _right now! _You can't quit! And what do you mean you're going to find him? Open the sodding door so we can talk!"

Venice ignored her and drifted back into the kitchen. She'd no more than set one foot on the tile floor when the room filled with brilliant green light and a blazing fire roared into being in the fireplace, spitting Ginny, quite ungracefully, out onto the floor. Ginny's ears were a brilliant shade of red and her eyes were bright with fury. She pointed at a chair.

"You. Sit. Now." Ginny stammered, so enraged her hand was shaking as she pointed.

Venice sat.

"You can't quit your job! This is entirely ridiculous! What would Charlie say if he heard you talking like this, Moon? He'd tell you to stop being a prat!"

"I meant what I said! I'm tired of you all acting like I've gone insane-Charlie isn't dead!" Venice choked up at the mere thought but struggled on. "He's not dead, and I am _not_ going to give up on him. I want him back, and I don't care what it takes, or what I have to do."

"Be reasonable! Let the Ministry handle it-there's nothing you can do, Venice. Nothing, except go on with your life. It's time you started learning to let it go. The rest of us have, and it's not easy, and it hurts like hell, but it's the right thing to do! We can help you, if you'd let us. I meant what I said before—we're all here for you, no matter what." Ginny was choking up now too. "We love you. I love you. You're family now, and we're not going to let you sit around in this funk anymore!"

"A funk? Ginny, it's barely been a month and you're all already acting like it never happened at all! Is it that easy for you to forget he's your _brother_? That he's part of your bloody family? I'm not ready to move on—I refuse! Charlie is NOT past tense; he's still alive."

Venice stood up.

"Get out of my flat, Ginny. This conversation is over."

"It is not! I'm not leaving, not until I talk some sense into your thick head!"

Ginny thunked Venice on the forehead with her knuckle as she spoke; Venice shoved her away angrily.

"Get _out, _Ginny!"

"No!"

"GET OUT!" Venice screamed the words with every last ounce of strength she could muster. She stood up, barely aware of the movement, and hurled her coffee cup across the room. It smashed into the wall with a surprisingly loud noise, startling both girls into silence. Hot tears leaked from the corners of Venice's eyes as she stared Ginny down, her chest heaving with every breath.

Venice had never hated anyone more in her life than she hated Ginny right now.

Finally Ginny nodded, fighting back her own frustrated tears.

"Fine. _Fine._ I'll leave. But we are _not_ finished with this conversation. I'll be back later, when you're through being completely mental"

Ginny flung the words at Venice and stormed from the room, slamming the front door so hard the whole wall shook.

Venice swore loudly and dropped back into her chair. She hadn't meant to scream at Ginny like that. Ginny had a point; she _was_ being stupid. She slumped in her seat, mentally berating herself for being such a bloody moron. She wiped the tears from her face with a little more force than was necessary.

Suddenly Venice wanted nothing more than a hot shower, desperate to wash away the mistakes of the day.

A few hours later Venice was in her bedroom, carefully folding up her magenta robes, trying to ignore the voice at the back of her head that was now screaming at her to reconsider. No more second-guessing herself. No more backing out.

She nodded once, resolve firmly in place, tucked the now neatly-folded robes under her arm, and went in search of her trainers.

Walking down Diagon Alley, she was hardly aware of the frosty chill that hung in the air, despite the fact she'd forgotten to put her sweater on. In her mind she was planning out what she was going to say to the twins. Her breath plumed out before her in a hazy cloud as she walked, but she didn't notice. Finally the joke shop loomed before her, and she took a deep breath before she climbed the steps and pushed the door open.

The bell jangled merrily as the door swung inward, and down the aisle she spotted both twins seated on stools behind the counter. They both smiled when they saw her, but she didn't miss the look they exchanged when they spotted the robes beneath her arm.

"Hullo, Venice," George began warily. His eyes were still on the hot pink bundle under her elbow. "What brings you here today?"

She hesitated for just a second before launching into the words she'd been preparing.

"You two are bloody brilliant. I love being here, and working for you both, but-" Venice paused, swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat, "I think it's time I quit. I'm turning in my robes."

She threw the bundle of cloth onto the counter, breathing hard through her nose.

Both men were speechless, gaping at her with mouths open.

"Moon, if there's anything we've done, or anything you need us to do, we'll take care of it—" George began, but Venice shook her head firmly.

"No, no, it's not you. I love you both—you're family, you know? I just…I have things I have to take care of, and I can't stay. I'm so sorry…" Venice broke off, biting the inside of her cheek to stave off another wave of tears.

"Are you sure?" Fred asked. His jaw twitched and Venice would have sworn his eyes grew a bit watery as they locked gazes.

"I'm sure," she said firmly. Relief washed over her. It was done. She was done.

She gave the twins a faint, half-hearted smile, turned around, and walked back out the door, half expecting one, or both, of the guys to chase after her, but instead the door clicked firmly into place and she was alone on the steps. In the five minutes she'd been in the shop it had started to rain, fat, freezing drops that splattered down mercilessly.

Venice stood on the sidewalk for a brief moment, suddenly not entirely sure what to do next. She began to walk, shoulders hunched against the drizzle. Diagon Alley was nearly empty, people ducking inside buildings as the rain grew heavier. Venice began to walk, headed for Gringotts, wondering if someone there would be able to talk to her about Charlie.

She climbed the marble steps to the lobby, pausing just inside the doors as the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She stared around, trying to figure out what was wrong.

Nothing looked out of place. There were several wizards standing in line, waiting for a teller. Two witches stood near the entrance to the vaults, giggling as they waited for a cart. Several goblins wandered by, chattering noisily.

Suddenly Venice felt someone standing directly behind her, their breath tickling her ear; gooseflesh erupted all the way down her spine. She spun on her heel, expecting to collide with whoever was there, but there was no one. The entryway behind her was empty. Shivering slightly, she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Again, the sensation of someone standing close behind her. She held her breath, listening intently. A whisper, barely audible. She turned again, searching. A noise; a breath? Then silence once more. Venice spun around once more, slowly. Still nothing.

Now people were starting to stare, discreetly, but watching her nonetheless, wary of her strange behavior. Her cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red. Wishing she could crawl inside her own skin, Venice slowly took a step back, and another, then turned and bolted out the door, completely embarrassed. She was acting like an idiot, again.

Mentally berating herself, she set off back up the street, headed now for the Leaky Cauldron. She wanted a good, stiff drink, something to take care of the chill now spreading through her body. The rain was coming down in heavy sheets now, thunder rumbling quietly in the distance, growing stronger as it grew closer. The temperature had dipped several degrees lower even during the short time she'd been in the bank and now she desperately regretted not having a jacket, or even an umbrella.

Venice ducked into the pub just as a large bolt of lightening lit up the sky bright as midday. She slipped into a booth, shivering, soaked entirely through. The pub was surprisingly full for this early in the afternoon, no doubt due to the weather, and Tom was scuttling around as quickly as he could. He waved at her as she sat down, letting her know he'd seen her come in. Venice rubbed her hands together as she waited, warming her fingers.

Finally Tom appeared at the edge of the table, grinning at her, cheerful as always.

"What would you like, Miss Venice?"

"Anything warm, Tom," Venice replied, glancing over at him. He nodded and disappeared again. Venice attempted to wring out her wet hair as she waited, dripping water all over the seat.

Tom returned after just a few moments and set a glass down on the table. She didn't ask what it was, just picked up the steaming tumbler and took a sip; she felt it warm her throat all the way down. She took another large sip, humming with pleasure as the warmth spread. In no time at all she was no longer shivering. Her head was buzzing pleasantly but when Tom came by to pour her another round she shook him off and stood. She didn't want to be drunk. She'd just needed to clear her head.

She dropped a couple sickles on the table, bid Tom a good day, and slipped back out the door.

The rain was still pouring from the heavens, big fat droplets that spattered on the pavement; Venice darted into the street and jogged back to her flat. She was shuddering with cold by the time she let herself in the front door. Teeth chattering, she began to peel off her wet shirt as she headed for the bathroom. She was about to step through the door when her foot caught on something and she nearly tripped. Frowning, Venice glanced down. She'd caught her shoe on the edge of the chair that was tipped onto its side directly in front of the door.

"Ginny? Is this you?" Venice shouted, waiting for Ginny's tell-tale giggle.

Silence.

"Fred? Come on, this isn't funny!"

Her heart pounded in her throat. No answer.

She righted the chair, carried it into the kitchen, and halted abruptly in the doorway. Every one of her cupboards was open, the cupboard doors hanging half off their hinges, all the contents strewn haphazardly onto the floor. Food, dishes, silverware, everything. Half of the dishes were broken, the pieces flung far and wide.

Slowly, Venice turned around, facing the living room. It was the same way. Her books had been scattered from the shelves, picture frames on the wall hanging askew, the glass pane broken in every single frame. Even the sofa cushions hadn't been spared; those had been pulled from the couch and torn to shreds, the stuffing sprinkled all over the rug.

Who had been in her flat?

Venice set down the chair she was still carrying and turned to the hallway in a stupor, wondering vaguely how much other damage was done.

She wandered down the hall, pausing to look at the mess in the bathroom, not bothering to go in just yet. The view from the hall alone told her it hadn't been spared. Heart thudding loudly in her chest, Venice closed the distance to her bedroom.

She had expected the bedroom to be just as messy as the rest of her flat but the sight of all her clothing, blankets, shoes, everything she owned scattered all over the room was still a shock. Venice was bent over, scooping a pile of sweaters off the floor, when her closet doors slammed open behind her. She had no time to scream, to move, before someone was on top of her, pressing her face into the carpet.

Venice heard a raspy whisper, and then everything went dark.


	12. The Girl Is (Probably) Not Crazy

Venice woke up in her bed, wrapped tightly in the blankets. Her room was dark and it took her a moment before she remembered what had happened. Gasping, she kicked the covers aside and got to her feet, pausing for just a breath before taking a flying leap at the closet doors.

"GOTCHA!" she cried, flinging the doors open.

There was nobody there. Instead she was faced with a neatly organized closet, everything in its place as it always was. In fact, now that she'd stepped back and looked around, everything in her room was back where it should be. There was no mess of clothes on the floor, no shoes strewn across the room. Utterly bewildered, Venice crept to the door, carefully avoiding all the places where the floor squeaked. She eased the door open, peering cautiously through the crack.

Her flat was eerily silent.

Venice tiptoed down the hall, glancing into the bathroom, which was neat and tidy, again just as she had left it. Another peek around the next corner, and she saw the kitchen was back in place. Turning around to face the den, she saw that it too was back as it had been.

"What is going on?" she wondered aloud.

The words had barely left her mouth when she heard a cough from the living room. Suddenly very aware that she was without her wand, Venice silently eased closer, listening carefully.

Someone was sprawled on the couch, buried deep under a blanket. Venice grabbed the first thing she laid her hands on, an umbrella from the stand in the hall, and quietly snuck up to the couch.

Raising the umbrella above her head, she pounced, swinging the umbrella down in one quick swoop. Venice connected solidly with whoever was under the blanket and heard a muffled squawk.

"Have you LOST your MIND, Moon?!"

Dumbfounded, Venice could only stare, mouth hanging open, as Ron emerged from the blanket, sputtering, red-faced, and looking rather rumpled.

Venice brandished the umbrella at him, sputtering as she searched for the right words.

"What...Who...Why are you here, Ron? Did you clean my flat? Were Ginny and the twins here? Were you in on it?"

Her eyes narrowed with the last question and she thrust the umbrella menacingly at his chest.

"What? No, I didn't clean your apartment; I don't even clean my own room, why in Merlin's name would I clean yours? Ginny was here, but she left a while ago, asked me to keep an eye on you."

With one last jab at his ribs, Venice lowered the umbrella.

"Were you in on it?" she repeated. Ron could only shake his head.

"In on what, Venice?"

"I went out for a while earlier, and when I got home, my apartment was a mess...everything was everywhere, and there was someone still here when I got back, hiding in my closet, like...like they were waiting for me..."

Ron snorted and hastily tried to disguise it as a cough.

"Venice, come on. There was someone here? Where's the mess he made, then?"

"I don't know! But there WAS someone here, I saw him! He jumped on me, and that's the last thing I remember until I woke up a few minutes ago, and now everything is...well, it's clean! It wasn't like that before!"

Venice broke off, the umbrella slipping out of her hands and sliding to the carpet with a thud.

"Did Ginny clean it? Where is she? Is she coming back?"

"Maybe you should sit down. Are you sure you didn't dream it?"

Venice shrugged him off when he tried to nudge her toward the sofa.

"I'm not mental, Ronald. Is Ginny coming back?"

Ron shrugged a shoulder.

"Probably, but she didn't tell me when. Do you want some water? Coffee?"

He didn't believe her. She could see it in his eyes.

"Never mind. Just forget it. I'll get my own damn coffee."

She stormed into the kitchen, slamming cupboards and drawers and mugs as she started a fresh pot of coffee. She saw Ron take a seat at the kitchen table, still watching her carefully, and fought down the urge to tell him to shove it.

Instead of shouting at him again she brought him a cup of coffee, slamming the mug onto the table a bit too hard on purpose, but she kept her insults to herself as she took a seat in the chair beside him, sipping at her coffee.

After an awkward silence Ron cleared his throat.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Piss off, Weasley," Venice hissed, glaring at him over her mug.

"Fine. Fine! I'm going. If I see Ginny I'll send her over."

Ron got up, snatched his jacket off the back of the couch, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Venice set her coffee on the table and rubbed a hand over her eyes.

She knew it hadn't been a dream. She was willing to bet her life on it. Someone had been in her flat, almost as if they were searching for something, but...what on earth could they have been looking for? She didn't have anything worth any value—once glance around should have made that obvious. As far as Venice had noticed nothing seemed to be missing.

She pushed her chair back, realizing she should maybe check to make sure nothing actually _was_ missing.

It took her nearly two hours, but by the time she was finished Venice could only find one thing that was missing.

Charlie's sweater.

Everything else had been put back exactly where it had been. The dust rings that weren't disturbed were proof, probably the only time Venice would ever be happy that she hated dusting.

She wanted to cry over the loss of Charlie's sweater. It had been the only thing that smelled like him, and Venice didn't know if she'd be able to sleep without it, or at least as close to sleep as she ever got anymore.

But...how had anyone known to take his sweater? Venice doubted any of the Weasley clan had done it. She didn't think any of them were capable of stooping that low.

Did it have anything to do with Charlie's disappearance?

It had to. It was the only answer...wasn't it?

Venice sank onto the floor, her mind racing.

She was still curled on the carpet when Ginny came in some time later. Her face said she'd already talked to Ron. Venice waited for Ginny to speak. It took her a few moments. Ginny set her things on the kitchen table and slowly wandered into the living room, where she perched on the arm of the sofa, fixing Venice with a look that was so 'Molly Weasley' it nearly made Venice laugh.

"So." Ginny picked nervously at her fingernails. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Venice sighed.

"What did Ron tell you?"

"Just that you were upset and shouting that someone had been here." She paused, deliberating her words carefully. "Venice, I came over earlier to see how you were. The twins told me what you did this morning and asked me to sort of keep an eye on you. You were sleeping when I got here. Your flat looks exactly as it does right now. You were the only one here, and it couldn't have been more than an hour or so after you left the shop. There wasn't enough time!"

Venice didn't interrupt, instead clenching her fists tightly in her lap as she waited for Ginny to finish.

"I'm not making it up, Ginny! I didn't dream it, as Ron seems to think, and I haven't gone round the bend recently. Why won't you believe me?"

"Because it doesn't make any sense! Why would anyone be here? What could you possibly have that they were looking for? I know what you're thinking and you've lost your mind!"

"How could you POSSIBLY know what I'm thinking, Ginny?" Venice shouted, rising to her knees. "Whoever was here took Charlie's sweater! They could have taken anything they wanted, but the only thing missing is his bloody sweater! The ONLY thing I have of his, and it's gone! Why the hell would someone break into my flat just to steal a sweater? That's what doesn't make any sense!"

Ginny sighed, getting to her feet only to pace back and forth a few times.

"Venice, I hardly think it has anything to do with why Charlie disappeared. I bet someone's just being a wanker and playing a trick on you. Everybody knows Charlie's gone...his sweater with the giant 'C' on it is probably a dead give-away, not to mention there's a lot of people that are familiar with Mum's sweater-making habit. Someone is messing with your head, Venice!"

"You berk! Why don't you believe me? Why would I lie about this?"

"You haven't been sleeping. Your mind can do funny things to you when you don't sleep; I don't doubt that Charlie's sweater is gone, but you have to see why anyone would have a hard time believing that someone was here, and that they tackled you and then, to top it all off, put you to bed and tucked you in! Someone's having a laugh on you, that's the end of it!"

Ginny's face and ears were brilliant red, a clear indication of just how upset she really was. Venice felt like punching something. Instead she clenched her hands into fists until her nails bit into her palms and forced herself to take several deep, slow breaths.

"I don't want to argue with you about it, Venice, I really don't. I don't like seeing you like this. You should come back to the Burrow with me. If someone was in here at all I don't like the idea of you staying here, especially alone."

"I'm not running to your mum every time something happens-she's got enough on her plate as it is!"

"I didn't say anything about my mum!"

"You didn't have to!"

The two girls stared at each other from across the room. Venice got to her feet.

"I don't like running to your mum because I don't like needing help, Ginny," she said quietly after a bit. Ginny nodded.

"I know. I'll stop asking. I just love you, you idiot. I want to make sure you're all right."

Ginny crossed the room and flung her arms around Venice. Venice returned the gesture, feeling the anger seep slowly out of her. She felt drained, limp, a pile of over-cooked noodles with legs.

"I need to sit down," she mumbled, stumbling toward the sofa. Ginny hovered anxiously as Venice collapsed on the cushions, slouching sideways until her head was pillowed on the arm. She could feel the beginnings of a headache pounding dully, and she allowed her eyes to slide closed.

"I'll stay here, at least for tonight. You just sleep, okay?"

Venice nodded slowly, already feeling herself beginning to drift. She felt Ginny cover her with a blanket, heard Ginny bustling about in the kitchen, and then she slept.

She woke later, suddenly, as though someone had shouted in her ear, but everything was quiet. The lamp was still burning beside the sofa, casting a dim glow through the room. Ginny was curled in the recliner, deeply asleep with her mouth hanging open. Venice sat up, pushing the blanket aside. She felt better, as if she'd slept for weeks instead of what must have been mere hours. She climbed to her feet and slouched into the kitchen. Her stomach was rumbling and Venice couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten.

She scrounged through the embarrassingly bare cupboards, finally settling for a box of crackers. She snatched it off the shelf and froze, box in hand, when the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

Someone was behind her.

Not Ginny; she could still hear Ginny's heavy mouth-breathing coming from the den. Her hands were shaking, the box of crackers clattering to the counter-top, and Venice couldn't quite bring herself to turn around.

"What do you want?" she whispered.

A footstep. The kitchen floor creaked. Venice shuddered.

Another footstep.

Clenching her teeth, Venice turned around.

Tall, looming, flowing black cloak concealed any hint of face or flesh. Venice felt her heart stop.

An arm rose, wand-tip poking out the end. She couldn't look away.

"You."

The deep, rasping voice spoke only one word and with it her blood ran cold.

"Stupefy!"

Ginny shifted in her sleep, mumbling. She didn't wake, didn't stir again, as the loud, tell-tale _crack_ of someone Apparating spread through the flat and Venice disappeared.

Darkness. Stone walls, stone floor, ceiling hidden in shadows. Venice was unceremoniously dumped on the floor, a tangle of limbs.

"Ennervate." the raspy voice echoed through the room. Face smushed against the cold stone floor, Venice moaned. With a swish of cloak and heavy footfalls, her captor was gone. Venice sat up slowly, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Slowly, she was able to make out the walls, the size of the room.

It was nearly the same size as her flat.

Venice carefully got to her feet, shivering in the dank air. At her side, in the corner, something moved. Venice froze, staring wildly into the darkness.

"Who's there?" She tried to make the words loud, brave, but they came out at a mere whisper. Something scraped against the floor, followed by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

"I'm nobody," a male voice rasped out sharply. "Who the hell are you?"

She knew that voice. She'd been hearing it in her dreams for weeks.

"Charlie?"

"No...No! It's not you!"

Suddenly he was standing in front of her, his hands clamped around her shoulders.

Charlie.

His face was filthy, his hair hanging about his face in dirty clumps, but she would forever be able to recognize his warm chocolate eyes. He was staring at her with his mouth open, unblinking.

"Is it really you?" He didn't give her a chance to respond before he suddenly yanked her into his arms and buried his face in her hair.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Charlie pulled back, giving her a careful once-over before gathering her close again. Venice sagged against him. She couldn't find her voice to answer Charlie; instead she just squeezed him a little tighter in her arms. Venice sniffled, blinking back tears.

"I knew you weren't dead, Charlie," she finally mumbled. "Everyone else was thinking it, but I knew if something had happened to you I could feel it, and now you're here, and you're okay."

She started to cry and pressed her face into Charlie's neck, certain that at any moment she'd wake up on her sofa again.

They stood there, arms wrapped around each other, until the tears finally slowed and Venice had to pull back to wipe her face with her hands. She smiled shyly at Charlie, feeling strangely awkward, and then Charlie held his hand out to her. She took it and he raised her fingers to his lips, pressed a kiss against her knuckles, and then tugged her closer so he could kiss her properly.

Venice leaned into him, reaching up to slip her free hand around his neck.

"I love you so much," Charlie blurted the words out when they broke apart, grinning down at her. Venice blushed and opened her mouth to respond.

Before she could utter a word, there was a startlingly loud _bang_ and she was flung backwards, landing painfully on her shoulder halfway across the room. When she'd struggled to her feet, gasping, it was too late. Charlie was gone, and she was alone.


End file.
